Star Trekking for the Holy Grail
by Bum Russian Elvis
Summary: PG13 for some foul language early on. Kirk and Co. are charged by God with a quest: Find the Holy Grail! Don't expect this to follow the movie. 'Cept the first chapter. FINISHED!
1. Where it kinda begins

Disclaimer: Do I look like I own Star Trek or Monty Python? Well, okay, as that is an illogical question (You can't see me through the monitor), I'll rephrase it. Do you think I own Star Trek or Monty Python? If you said know, you're correct. If you said yes, then you've got some mental problems to work through. Enjoy.

(I know there were only 5 main knights, but I didn't want to exclude anyone ^_^; and of course, there are those expendable knights, in the form of our beloved red-shirts. I'll try to follow the script as well as I can, but I have a terrible memory, and can't remember it all even though I just watched it last night.)

  


Enterprise Crew and the Holy Grail

(I want a better name, though still with 'and the Holy Grail' in it. Suggestions?)

            The sound of a horse galloping was heard in the misty morning of England. Slowly, the two riders came into view. Wait, no. That's our mistake. Not a horse galloping at all, just an ensign, clapping two coconuts together to make it sound as if they were on a horse. The other man, in a gold shirt, was _pretending to be on a horse. Quite silly, really. _

            Anyways, they 'rode' up to the nearest castle. The only one in sight, really, but that was beside the point. As it turned out, there were humans in there. Dumb, but human. 

            "Who goes there?" Cried out the man standing watch on top of the castle. 

            And the man in the gold shirt replied, "It is I, Kirk, Captain of the _Enterprise! And this is my servant, Ensign Patsy. We have ridden since the snows of winter covered this land, in search of the finest and most beautiful women in the la-, uh, I mean, the finest and bravest Command Officers-"_

            Replied the man on the castle: "Ridden? What, on a horse?"

            "Yes." Said Kirk.

            "You've just got two coconuts, and are bangin' them together."

            "So? We have searched for the finest-" Kirk argued from below.

            "Where'd you get them?"

            "What?" Kirk asked, thrown completely off by that."

            "The coconuts. Where'd you get them?"

            "We found them." Replied Kirk. 

            "Found them!? You listen here; a coconut is from tropical regions. These lands about us are temperate zones, and-"

            "The swallow may fly south in the winter, in seek of warmer temperature, but these are not strangers in our land."

            "Are you suggesting that the coconuts _migrated_?"

            "Not at all." Kirk said wearily. "They could be carried."

            "What? By a swallow?"

            "He could grip it by the husk."

            "It's not a matter of where he _grips_ it. It's a matter of weight ratios. A five ounce bird could not carry a one-pound coconut. A sparrow has to beat it's wings 136 times a minute in order to stay in flight-"

            Kirk was fed up. "What does it matter how I found him? Will you tell your master that Captain Kirk is here-"

            Now another guard had joined the conversation. "What about an African swallow?"

            "Oh, well, yeah, an African swallow could carry it." Replied the first. "But a European swallow!"

            "Yes, of course, that's absurd."

            "Oh, wait," Said the first. "African swallows are non-migratory."

            "Ah…" Said the second. There was a pause, in which Kirk and Ensign Patsy 'rode' off. "Supposin' two swallows carried it together…"

            CLANG! "Bring out your dead!" A man smacked his triangle with his metal club again. "Bring out your dead!" Again. "Bring out your dead!" Again. "Bring out your dead!"

            And man kept on going on like this, oblivious to the moaning and crying around him. After a bit, a man came up to him carrying another man over his shoulder. For ease of the scene, let's call the man with the triangle and club #1, the man with the 'dead' man over his shoulder #2, and the 'dead' man #3. Okay? Good!

            "I've got one." Said #2.

            "Nine-pits." #1 ordered.

            "I'm not dead!" Said #3 in a week voice.

            "What?" Asked 1.

            "Nothing." #2 covered. "Here's your nine-pits."

            #3 noticed that no one heard him the first time, and repeated his plea.

            "He says he's not dead." #1 said. 

            "Well, he will be soon. He's very old." 2 said. 

            "I can't take him." 1 said.

            "I think I'm getting better!" 3 tried.

            "No you aren't, you'll be stone dead in a moment." 2 turned back to 1. "Listen, think you could stick around a bit?"

            "No, I've gotta finish my rounds. The people are just dying to die!" 1 replied.

            "I don't want to go on the cart!" 3 said.

            "Oh, don't be such a baby. Well, when's your next run?" 2 said.

            "Thursday."

            "He'll be long dead by then."

            "I think I'm going for a walk!" Tried 3 vainly.

            "You're not fooling anyone, y'know." 2 said. "Well, you think you could-" He started to say to 1.

            "I feel happy! I feel happy! I feel happy!" 3 cried desperately.

            1 looked about, and smacked 3 with his club. 3 fell strangely silent.

            "Thanks." 2 said, putting 3 on the cart.

            "See ya on Thursday." 1 said.

            "Thursday, right." 2 said.

            At this point, Kirk and Patsy 'rode' past.

            "Who's that?" Asked 2.

            "Must be a Starship Captain."

            "How do you know that?"

            "He hasn't got shit all over 'im."

You like? Short, I know, but more coming! I promise! 


	2. Where We Find The Other People Who Are B...

Disclaimer: I now claim ownership of both Monty Python and Star Trek, and I will not relinquish it until the former owners bring up the legal records that prove I   
  
don't own it! Either that, or until they sue me. Or just yell at me. Or simply talk to me about it. It all works.  
  
Tavia - yeah, it kind've is basically the movie with the names switched about. I'll work on that, though. And I didn't realize that this was all that risky… But risks are  
  
our business. When man first looked to the stars - Oh, yeah. Must continue with the review-responce-thingy.  
  
IIShameekaII - Not quite, but those migratory coconuts will work one day. Does anybody know Dr. Frankenstein's number? And I fully intend to continue writing   
  
this. Couldn't let the reviews stop, could I?  
  
Master Kenobi - Don't like Star Trek?! BLASPHEMOUS! Oh well. Everyone loves Monty Python, though. Right? Oh, and can I have those said two cents? Not   
  
your thoughts, the actual money? Please? I'm broke...  
  
If you recall, we left Kirk and Patsy riding past the dead-cart, it's master, and aguy just putting an old man on the cart. They surmised that he was a Captain because  
  
he didn't have shit all over him. They were, coincidentally, correct.  
  
So we now rejoin Kirk as he comes up behind a person wheeling a cart towards a nearby Starship. Why the Starship is on the ground is anyone's guess.  
  
"Old woman!" Kirk called to her.  
  
"I'm a man." She, er, he, said back.  
  
"No, you're a woman."  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
"Because I said you are!" Kirk said. "Now who lives in that Starship?"  
  
"I'm not old. I'm 37."  
  
"That doesn't matter." Kirk said.  
  
The man, or woman, or whatever, grumbled at this. "Nobody lives there." He, or she, then proceeded to explain a system of government that sounds   
  
strangely like a democracy.  
  
Kirk frowned.  
  
"Uh, that sounds, uh, nice. I'll just be on my way."  
  
"Well, wait here a minute." Said the man. Or woman.  
  
"Yes?" Kirk asked.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"I am Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise"  
  
"Captain?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How'd you become that?"  
  
"The lady of the lake, handed me the sword Excalibur, therefore proclaiming me to be King."  
  
"Hmm? Oh, sorry. Wrong script." Kirk apologized, and continued on his way.  
  
The old man-lady-thing-that-really-isn't-that-old looked strangely at Kirk's back for a few moments, then continued on his/her way towards the Starship.  
  
Spock pondered something. What he was pondering we may never know, and it being Spock, we probably wouldn't understand. Suffice to say, he was   
  
pondering something when Kirk and Patsy did their little fake-horse-riding-manuever to get to him. Why they did this, we'll never know, and again, we probably  
  
wouldn't understand. Unless, naturally, they were doing this for no reason other then that they did it in the movie, and this would simply make the whole story   
  
funnier, so I'm telling them to do it since I'm the author and all. Well, one of theauthors. You see -  
  
"Excuse me! It's bad enough being forced to ride around like this, looking like idiots, but then having you ignore us is adding insult to injury! Now, get on   
  
with the story or I'll quit! And it better be fun, or I'll quit anyways!" Kirk said. He looked rather upset and annoyed as he did it, too, for whatever reason. Personally  
  
I think it may have something to do with -  
  
"A-herm."  
  
Oh, right. The story. Kirk was cut off from reaching Spock by a group of mechanics chanting technobabble, and then smacking themselves in the head with   
  
a wrench. Why they did this, we may, again, never know.   
  
But I'll continue before Kirk gets upset again. When the mechanics cleared, Kirk and Ensign Patsy were again cut off by a group of villagers rambling   
  
nonsense about this girl they found being some sort of android and asking Spock if they could toss her into the - Well, someplace that a normal human being   
  
wouldn't like to go into.  
  
  
  
Kirk saw her and stared into her eyes. He was going to ask her out, if she weren't an android. If she were...   
  
"Oh, I can't wait. The suspence is killing me!" Patsy said.  
  
Bwah. I'll let it kill you, too, unless you review. Actually, I'm gonna start working on the next chapter directly after this. And I know it's short. 


	3. Alliviation of Suspence Well, some of it

Disclaimer: See last chapter. See chapter one for the real disclaimer.  
  
There were no reviews at this point because... I just posted the chapter. But I left some of you out. So...  
  
Oddwen - Yeah, I hope this and the last chapter help with originality. I s'pose that the first chapter was just so I could get started.  
  
Original Proxy - I don't know who I'm going to cast as the others. It's just an on-the-fly thing. Though it'll probably be Sulu. And as I said before, I'm working more  
  
on originality now.   
  
Gracie - I know what you mean. "I haven't signed in? Bah! Who needs to be signed it?" And of course it'll have Chekov. Though the first time I saw his name I had   
  
no clue about who he was. It was in a TNG book, Vendetta. One of the ships was the U.S.S. Chekov. Since then he's grown to be one of my favorite characters.   
  
And to everyone in general, I've thought that this is really odd: When I posted in one of the smallest sections, I almost immediatly had more reviews on one chapter   
  
than I have had on any other section. I'm not sure what significance this has, but I find it odd. So I felt that I should point it out. Oh, and Tavia, can I use Jones for   
  
this? I just have trouble picturing a Trek comedy without Jones. I promise he won't die at the Gorge.  
  
We left with the suspence killing Ensign Patsy. Suspence is actually one of the major causes of death in the galaxy today - especially among redshirts - so it is  
  
imperative that I break the suspence before they come after me for the murder of that poor innocent red shirt who decided to read this - Ah. It appears to be too late.   
  
In that case, I'll just break it so that no other red shirts die - Too late again. Fine: The woman that Kirk wants to ask out is indeed human, but for whatever reason   
  
that again probably has something to do with the movie and general insaneness of the story, she is still thrown into that thing that no normal human being would want   
  
to be thrown into.  
  
In the spirit of leaving some semblance of mystery to the story, someone's arm was jostled into spilling cold coffee over someone else. We will not disclose  
  
who jostled the arm, who's arm was jostled, who's cold coffee it was, or who got coffee spilled over them. You will just have to wait, so nyah!  
  
Terribly short, terribly sorry. But this is a relatively quick update. I'm gonna start working on the next chapter immediatly. 


	4. The Almighty Spork

Disclaimer: You've heard this by now.   
  
IIShameekaII - What dead parrot? It's just resting... And yes, you do love short chapters. You love them absolutely. Because as you've probably noticed, the last chapter was little more then a paragraph and a half. You're still gonna review, right?  
  
Yep, she was my only reviewer. (Hint, hint) Understandable, I guess, since I just posted it a few days ago. This was entirely done on an e-mail, and then copy/pasted to notepad. That's how annoyed I am with my lack of a word processor.  
  
"Can't have that." Kirk said sharply at Patsy.  
  
"Can't have what?"   
  
"The suspence kill you! Wear would I be without my loyal redshirted ensign servants?!"  
  
"Uhm, Sir..." Patsy gestured at the large line of redshirts waiting to die at the Captain's side. In fact, Patsy had been incredibly lucky so far - it'd been a full 30 seconds of suspence and he was still alive. Luckily, it wasn't to last much longer.  
  
"This is illogical." Spock said in Vulcan calm to the group of villagers. "She is very clearly not an android."  
  
A bright flash blinded everyone suddenly, and a RAAST (Randomly Appearing Anti-Star Trek) person was there. "Oh? And how would you know that, Sock?"  
  
Another bright flash - bigger and brighter this time - blinded everyone and a RAATM (Randomly Appearing Angry Trekkie Mob) dragged the RAAST away. It is doubtful that we will ever see that individual in living condition again. Godspeed, RAATM.  
  
Kirk blinked. "What... was that...?"  
  
"It is doubtful that you want to know. Let's just forget it ever happened." Patsy said.  
  
"Forget what ever happened? I'm charging someone for being an android." One of the villages said distantly.  
  
Spock, completely unfazed (He IS Spock), went on. "She cannot possibly be an android, as she has normal colored skin. Tell me," He asked, "Is her skin cold?"  
  
"Well, not really..."  
  
"So her body heat would be around human normal?"  
  
"More or less..."  
  
"Androids have skin that is colder then a human's."  
  
"Well... she's got a..."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"Nothing... Nothing..."  
  
Another villager spoke up. "But she did attack us before we brought her in!"  
  
One of Spock's eyebrows made a grab for altitude. "Did she?"  
  
The woman finally spoke up. "They were approaching me with phasers."  
  
"They could merely be Starfleet officers." Spock reasoned.  
  
"That's not all. Some were wielding..." She spoke in a hushed tone. "Sporks."  
  
The villagers shouted loudly, objecting. "We were not!" "It was just a fork!" "You have no proof!"  
  
Spock quieted the villagers. "Spork's are illegal possessions. There shall be a trial, immediatly."  
  
Kirk's eyes went wide, and he spoke aloud. "Sporks are illegal possessions?!?!"  
  
Too loudly.  
  
Spock looked at Kirk, just noticing him, or so it seemed. "Captain Kirk. You should know that they are illegal, as you are the one who made them illegal."  
  
"Oh, yeah, that. I, uh, hereby revoke the illegalness of owning a spork?"  
  
Spock frowned, slightly, and nodded, just as slightly. "Then there will be no trial."  
  
One of the villagers picked up the woman and, before anyone could stop him, chucked her into the place that a human being wouldn't want to go. "I guess that that is tha-" He abruptly cut off as a spork protruded from his forehead suddenly. He fell down, revealing a glaring Kirk.  
  
"I wanted to ask her out."  
  
You like? Still short, but I think that it ended well. 


	5. The Man with the Plan Well, Vulcan with ...

Disclaimer: Why am I making this? For enjoyment, not money! You know it! And for ego-boosting, of course!  
  
Sukuru: Well, I had to do something, and Sporks are possibly the greatest and most dangerous creation known to Jr High. The only reviewer for that chapter, yes. And if I had nailed that parrot to it's perch, it would have muscled up to those bars, and FOOM!  
  
Tavia: Well, you can thank Empress Leia for the randomness. In our convo's on AIM, randomness reigns supreme. Thanks for Jones. His debut is in this chapter, and Patsy will not have the awful fate I had planned. Jones fit the bill of - oh, that'd be telling!  
  
That reminded me: Randomly Appearing Objects/People are the property of Empress Leia and I. If you have anything with that goes 'RA' something-or-other, and didn't ask, then you will get a severe talking-to!  
  
So, Kirk recruited Spock to join him on his command crew. Joining him was the Doctor, McCoy, and his group of 2 red-shirt guards, the brave Ensign Chekov, Ensign Sulu, and their respective red-shirt guards. And naturally they needed someone to keep... well, whatever it was they needed kept in top shop, in top shop. So they brought Chief Engineer Scotty with. He really just wanted to see the Enterprise. And lastly, they got Ensign Jones, the not-quite-as-brave-as-Ensign Chekov, who had nearly fought Harry Mudd's androids, and had once destroyed the transporter room to avoid beam-down.  
  
Kirk had moaned about Jones joining them, for he would be considerably less then helpful in the upcoming dangers. In fact, Jones hadn't been too keen on joining them himself. But he had no choice, because the author wanted Jones in, and he fit the bill of Sir Robin perfectly, so nyah!  
  
Anyways, onward. The command crew was assembled as follows: Spock would be the science officer, McCoy the chief medic, Jones the Security Chief, and so on and so forth. You know how it goes. If not, you can guess. I'm doing this in class and don't have time to list everyone.  
  
Well, they went to the Enterprise. They would have stayed, but Harry Mudd was at it again, aboard the starship and trying to steal her. Again. For the... well, by now it must be the fifth time. To the point: Kirk didn't feel like dealing with it.  
  
"But Cap'n! Ye cannae let 'im have 'er! He'll do terrible things to the lass!" Scotty objected.  
  
"Mr. Scott," Kirk said, his voice low, filled with warnings, "We will come back later to retake the ship."  
  
"But-"  
  
"_Later_." Kirk repeated.  
  
Scotty sighed. "Aye, sir."  
  
Spock cut into the dying argument. "Captain, I believe I may have a plan to quickly take the ship, with little aggravation, which you humans seem to feel very much of."  
  
"What do you need, Mr. Spock?" Kirk said slowly.  
  
"We need a great quantity of metal, cutting tools, and tools to fix the metal in place. Wood will serve in place of the metal if it is unavailable."  
  
"And the plan...?"  
  
Spock detailed the plan.  
  
You're all lucky for this update! Though I think most of you know what's happening next, I believe I mixed originality in here rather nicely, and built suspense well. And I did indeed write this at school first, and then typed it up later. I got the crazy idea to make a folder for stories to write at school during science, and got a bunch of time to start this. I'm probably going to work on my next story in the 'Wraiths' saga, Savior, tomorrow. I suggest you read it, my two LOTR stories. And wow. For a post-story authors note, this is kinda long. But oh well. Just hurry up and review! 


	6. Bummmmmm bummmmm BUMBUM!

Sukuru: Spock has plans. He may not share them, but he has them. And if he doesn't, well... You'll see.  
  
And it's not dead, it's pining for the feuds!  
  
Ariennye: Yay! New reviewer! And you DO know the plan! Just, you don't. But you do, but you don't... Man that's deep.  
  
Not, without further adu... (REVIEW!)   
  
Star Trekking for the Holy Grail  
  
Saws, power tools, and falling tree's echoed in the woods surrounding the Enterprise. Harry Mudd had his old Stella robot - reprogrammed, of course - guarding the ship. At her station, she heard the echoes, and frowned.   
  
There was nothing that should be making that sound. Harry had watched Kirk and his crew leave hours - days - ago. They were long gone.   
  
The echoes said otherwise. Literally. Stella heard shouts, with the echoes:   
  
"OW! You pointy-eared, green-blooded hobgoblin, you, watch where you're hammering!"   
  
"Bones, quiet down and get to work!"   
  
"Doctor, I AM watching where I hammer. You are getting your thumbs in the way before I can react-"   
  
"Ah-HA! So you AREN'T perfect-"  
  
"I never said that I-"  
  
"You too, Spock!"  
  
So, being the loyal and ugly slave-robot she was, Stella went to Harry and told him.  
  
"Ah, nonsense, my dear. They're just trying to get us jittery. We won't."  
  
"Harry, evidence suggests-"  
  
"That you shut up? No, that's me."  
  
(Can you guess the plan yet?)  
  
  
  
******************  
  
After all was said and done, the progress on the plan went pretty well. There was that minor setback about the back of rabid rabbits that McCoy called Rabies. They had driven the group off rather early in the project, and Jones had been all for continuing to run away shouting... well, 'Run away!'  
  
But the Command Crew came back, phasers phasing, and killed all of the rabid rabbits called rabies, except one that had been identified as the leader. It hopped away rather quickly, taking out two redshirts as it went. It really did more then it needed when it killed them - it leaped up to the necks of the security guards and bit their necks off with one swift bite when it could of just tripped them in a patch of grass, where they probably would have impaled themselves on a blade of grass.  
  
Anyway. The project was finished now, and the crew climbed up the trees as the monstrocity floated to the Enterprise. It came to a rest just outside.  
  
Kirk still didn't like like it, and as he looked up at the monstrocity, a lone trumpet played in a dramatic way, then followed by a timpani. Kirk scowled, and the gargantaun wooden Klingon seemed to smirk. Kirk continued to scowl as he looked at Spock.  
  
"What now?"  
  
"Well, if my analisys of Mudd was correct, he should beam the Klingon aboard to sell it - Ah, there." Sure enough, the familiar transporter whine and familiar transporter light whined and glowed, respectively, as the Klingon dissolved.  
  
"Alright, now how does Harry having this monstrocity help us?"  
  
"Once it gets dark, you, Ensign Jones -"  
  
"ME?!"  
  
Spock ignored the interuption. "-and myself jump out of the Klingon and-"  
  
Kirk stopped him. "Wait, who jumps out the monstrocity?"  
  
Spock opened his mouth to reply, then stopped. And closed his mouth. And frowned. And frowned some more. "How could I not see that?" He wondered aloud. McCoy, apparently, found all of this extremely hilarious. At least, he did if you think uncontrollable bouts that result in his falling from the tree that continue until the burning sensation in his lungs reminds him that, yes, breathing is INDEED necasarry part of his continued existence, if you find all that a sign that someone finds something extremely hilarious, he found it extremely hilarious.  
  
Kirk did not. And you didn't need me to tell you that, no indeed. Spock, too, fell out of the tree (triggering another bout of laughter in McCoy) from the hot air coming from Kirk that was directed at him. No one close to him was able to hear well for the next day or so, and Harry Mudd, scoundrel and swindler, found some new things to add to his list of things to call the REAL Stella if he ever saw her again.  
  
And because of this, it was, amazingly, Jones who saved everyone by looking up in the sky as the giant Klingon rematerialized above the whole group and screamed bloody murder as he fell out of the tree to land among Spock, the second in command, and McCoy, who probably saw more of Jones then any other living, breathing being that was ever in existence in the universe. The rest of the group wouldn't of looked up, because that sort of thing was normal for Jones, but they did anyway. Even I don't know why. They just did.   
  
And somehow they got out from under the large wooden Klingon that was rapidly approaching the ground to see if the ground would be its friend. It seemed promising, but then the ground pulled a double-cross as they met and decided to be the thing that smashes the wooden monstrocity to itny bits that not even it's nonexistent dentist could identify. And this the ground did rather well.  
  
Naturally, during this whole thing, Kirk never once stopped yelling.  
  
And lastly, sadly, two redshirts died in the resulting minor dust cloud. Their families have yet to be informed.  
  
And now, without further adu, you shall review! 


	7. WhackBONK

Disclaimer: You know, I know, they know.  
  
Ariennye - And another chappie! And number 7 at that. I'm scared... And, hey, Jones did save the day... Scary.  
  
Sukuru - Norwegian blue prefers keepin' on it's back. Along with those 4 redshirts that just died, leaving 16 nervous ones left ,and one very nervous Jones. (And yes, that is the actual number!)  
  
Now, without further adu...  
  
Star Trekking for the Holy Grail  
  
"Spock, if you ever attempt to suggest a plan again, well, just don't, okay?" Kirk growled.  
  
"Captain, that is illogical. If I have a reasonable plan, why should I withhold it, especially if it could get us out of a dangerous situation?" Spock, of course.  
  
"Two reasons, Spock. One, with this author, plans of any type will most certainly backfire and get us killed-"  
  
"'With this author', Captain? May I please inquire as to how a writer of literature affects our mission? Indeed, or how it could affect our life or death." Amazing how Spock has the longest lines...  
  
"Poor, poor old Spock..." McCoy. "You still don't realize that this whole mission is being typed out by an author on his dad's old typewriter, and therefore any typo's you may find are not his fault, but rather the fault of the wierd keyboard that the typewriter has."  
  
"Za?" This, of course, came from everybody. Except Spock. Of course. Spock's expression was the closest that Spock's face had ever gotten, or indeed ever will get, to confusion. That is, it was as far away from it as was possible. It was also as far away from total understanding as possible. More of a neutral. Like always.  
  
"Anyway, moving on, my second reason, Spock, is that your last plan nearly killed someone."  
  
"Uh, Jim, it did kill someone. Two someones. Redshirts." That was McCoy.  
  
"Oh, well, I mean, someone important."  
  
"How callous." Spock said emotionlessly.  
  
"Well, face it, Spock, when was the last time a redshirt did something important?"  
  
"Approximately 5 minutes ago, when Ensign Jones warned us of the wooden Klingon that had just been transported above us."  
  
"Besides then."  
  
"Approximately 6 months ago, when Ensign Jones used a phaser to destroy the transporter room, and therefore cancel our mission."  
  
"Besides then."  
  
"Approximately 12 motnhs ago, when Ensign Jones-"  
  
"Something that doesn't have to do with something Ensign Jones did!!" Kirk bellowed.  
  
Before Spock could reply, Jones squealed out: "I didn't do anything!!"  
  
"That's a lie and you know it, Ensign!" Kirk continued to bellow.  
  
"Then, well, what did I do?" Jones asked, honestly confused.  
  
"Too much!" Bellow-boy.   
  
"But-"  
  
"Too much!!" Bellow-boy again, but louder. "Stop calling me Bellow-boy!" You can guess. "Stop that! Stop it now!" Kirk charged at the camera, only to then realize that this is a story, not a movie, and therefore there's no camera. Wonder what he'll do now... "Why you little-! I'll kill you! You get down here right now, and I'll show you the reason why people don't call Jim Kirk bellow-boy!!" Eh, may as well please 'im.  
  
And so, POOF, I appeared right in front of Kirk, with a sack in my hand. As Kirk got ready to 'teach me a lesson,' Spock pointed to my sack. "If I may ask, Sir, what is that?"  
  
"Why, I'm glad you asked. It's my bean-filled whack-bonk."  
  
"Indeed. And, if you don't mind my continued inquiries, what does it do?"  
  
"I'll do better then tell you, Spock, I'll show you." And with that, I swung my bean-filled whack-bonk into Kirk's head, making a large 'WHACK' sound, and sending him to the ground, head first, which made a loud 'BONK' sound.  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"It's fun. Wanna try it?"  
  
"I must decline. It is not a logical weapon to carry."  
  
"Well, none of this is really logical."  
  
"I concede the point." So I handed him the whack-bonk, and another appeared in my hand.   
  
"Now, to continue the story-" I was interrupted by Kirk's groans. "Do you mind?" More groans. "Oh, fine. Before we continue, I'll have a replacement Captain placed until Kirk's set to continue." I clapped my hand once, and both me and Kirk disappeared. A second later, Picard appeared where Kirk had been, looking confused.  
  
"What am I doing here?" The Frenchman said in his British accent. "Number One? Lt-Commander Data? Worf?" He looked around, thoroughly confused.  
  
Spock frowned. "If I am not mistaken, 'Worf' is a Klingon name. Why would you be asking for a Klingon when you are clearly asking for your officers?"  
  
Picard turned to Spock and was about to answer. "Bec- wait a minute. You're Ambassador Spock!" He looked around. "And you're Doctor McCoy!" He exclaimed all of the officers names in amazement, until he got to Jones. "And you're... the security guard, who never died on any away mission, though you went with on all... Or something like that. You're legendary among the security guards on my ship. Blast, what was your name...? I think it was Simmons- no, that was the other one..."  
  
"Jones?" The ensign whose name was just mentioned said.  
  
"Yes! Yes, that's it!"  
  
Before Picard could keep going, Spock cut in. "Excuse, Captain...?"  
  
"Picard."  
  
"Yes, Captain Picard, what is your ship?"  
  
Picard frowned. "Certainly, Ambassador, you would remember. Before I appeared here, where ever 'here' is - or whenever- I was talking to you."  
  
"Captain, what is your ship?"  
  
"The Enterprise."  
  
"That's impossible!" McCoy burst out. "The Enterprise is over there!" He pointed over at their Enterprise.  
  
"Actually, Doctor, our complete code is USS NC-1701-D. It's the Enterprise-D." Picard explained.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Wait - is that the actual Enterprise? The Original?!" Picard seemed to get really excited.  
  
Jones had by now wandered off with everyone but McCoy and Spock.  
  
McCoy looked at Spock. "You handle him. I have a feeling that this story is going to grind to a halt with Picard in charge. I'm going to find Jim so I can get him up and running again."  
  
Godspeed, Bones. 


	8. Rhyming time with Spock

Disclaimer: I stand by my claims, whatever they may be.  
  
Ariennye - Just keep reviewing, and you'll have your very own whack-bonk! *Pats mine appreciatively*  
  
Picard was confused. That is to say, more confused then usual. Not that this in itself was a shock, since he didn't have his fancy android to help him figure out what was going, and even when he did have his fancy android, he was still confused.  
  
McCoy stated all of this, in most colorful detail.  
  
"And he even has the closest thing to a computer we have! He has Spock, who I think could beat most computers." McCoy argued, and earned a few chuckles all aorund.   
  
Picard and Spock either ignored it or didn't hear. With Spock, it's highly doubtful that he didn't hear. With Picard... well, you never know.  
  
"Run that by me one more time?"   
  
"This is approximately 78.2 years before your rightful time. The author of this..." Spock paused and departed on a noble quest to find the correct word. "Story, I suppose, will suffice. The author of this story angered Captain Kirk, and then when he issued a challenge, the author came down and knocked unconscious the good Captain. With the utmost of ease, I might add."  
  
"So.... what am I doing here?"  
  
"The author decided that the story needed a replacement Captain, seemed to twist temporal rifts and whatnot (A/N: I've always wanted to here Spock say whatnot. Well, not always, but you get the idea.) to bring you here, and presumably send Captain Kirk to your own time."  
  
At this, ominous thunder and insane laughter cut Spock's explanation... right at where he had planned at ending it. I need to work on my timing. Anyway, the thunder and laughter cut Spock off. Ominously.   
  
Said I, as I appeared; "Nonononononono, Mr Spock, you've got your head on backwards!"   
  
"My head is quite clearly on forwards-"  
  
"I have sent Picard backwards, but I've not put Kirk forwards, that would be logical!"  
  
"That is illogical-"  
  
"Shall where Captain Kirk is stay a mystery?"  
  
"Well, that is a distinct possibility."  
  
"Or shall I relieve the suspence?"  
  
"You are talking in Past Tense."  
  
"No I'm not; the tense I'm in, I've not decided yet."  
  
"Kindly, tell us where the Captain is, so Ensign Jones won't fret."  
  
"Oh fine; I'll end the mystery!  
  
"Captain Kirk is here, with me!"  
  
"Why didn't you just say that in the begining?" McCoy grumbled. "Instead of going on with Spock like that."  
  
Spock was busy frowning. "I did not say any of that."  
  
Everyone looked at him funny. "Yes you did." They all said.  
  
"My voice did, but I did not think it. It was completely against my will."  
  
I chuckled. "Oh, my that's fun! Rhyming Time with Spock! OH-HOHO! I should do that! Make millions!" A notepad appeared in my hand, and I jotted down notes on my notepad with a pen that appeared.   
  
Soon Picard recovered from the stunned silence he was apparently in. "Q!!!" He shouted.  
  
I blinked. And turned. To look at him funny. Then realization dawned on my face. "Ohh... You think I'm from the Q Continuum."  
  
"No, I think that you're Q."  
  
"Do I look like I'm Q?!"  
  
"Well, not exactly, but you do everything Q does.'  
  
"Oh, pish posh. I can do everything that he does and much, much more! Here, watch." I snapped my fingers, and the real Q appeared. He was also confused. Then I snapped my fingers and he started Irish Dancing.  
  
"Stop this at once!" Q shouted. "Whoever's doing this-" Then he saw me. "YOU!"  
  
"Yes, me." And I shoved his hand into Q's stomach and green gunk spread out all around him, and when it retreated he looked exactly like me. As this happened, I said, "Me, me, me...," cheeply ripping off the Matrix.  
  
"Oh, stop this nonsense." Q changed back to his normal self.  
  
"Anyways, I used my divine influence to make Spock say it. Honestly, McCoy, wasn't it a riot?"  
  
"No, it was -" And he burst into fits of laughter, giggles, and soon tears from all the laughter. In between laughs he managed to gasp out a few things: "STOP IT!" Okay, fine, maybe that's only a couple, but it's better then most could do.  
  
Soon I stopped. And he glared. At me. And I hid behind Picard, who shriveled up under the intensity, which prompted me to go backwards in time and not make McCoy laugh. So I did, and he didn't laugh.   
  
Soon Picard recovered from the stunned silence he was apparently in. "Q!!!" He shouted.  
  
I blinked. And turned. To look at him funny. Then realization dawned on my face. "Ohh... You think I'm from the Q Continuum."  
  
"No, I think that you're Q."  
  
"Do I look like I'm Q?!"  
  
"Well, not exactly, but you do everything Q does."  
  
"Oh, pish posh. I can do everything that he does and much, much more! Here, watch." I snapped my fingers, and the real Q appeared. He was also confused. Then I snapped my fingers and he started Irish Dancing.   
  
"Stop this at once!" Q shouted. "Whoever's doing this-" Then he saw me. "YOU!"  
  
"Yes, me." And I shoved his hand into Q's stomach and green gunk spread out all around him, and when it retreated he looked exactly like me. As this happened, I said, "Me, me, me...," cheeply ripping off the Matrix.  
  
"Oh, stop this nonsense." Q changed back to his normal self. "You're not of the Q Continuum. What are you, an A? U? T? H? O? R?"  
  
"Well, put all that togethor, and you'll see."  
  
Q was apparently slow today. "Qauthor?"  
  
"No, I'm one of the Author Continuum. Or, if you write for Star Wars, I'm on the Author's Side of the Force."  
  
Everyone around gasped. Jones was confused. "What's the author continuum? Are they redshirts? What's Star Wars? Are they dangerous?"  
  
McCoy quickly grabbed Jones and shook him. "Are you mad!? Never question one of the Author Continuum! And they are the most dangerous forces in the universe! They have ultimate power over anything and everything they choose, in the form of the stories they make, for the duration of those stories."  
  
Jones looked horrified, and then realization dawned on his face. Like a revelation. Which it was. "That's it! That's why so much has happened to me! It's because of Author's! They toy with me for their own sick amusement!!!"  
  
"Of course we do. It's quite comical, but everyone loves you. Remind me to get Tavia to let you explore FanFiction.net."  
  
"But don't you control everything?"  
  
"Well, yeah, but not other Authors. And I need Tavia's permission, 'cause she kinda created you..."  
  
He looked too stunned to handle that, so I wiped that last bit from his memory.   
  
He just shrugged. "Okay, I'll remind you."  
  
"That's a good boy. And I'll try not to be mean to you for this story."  
  
"Really?! You mean no accidents?!"  
  
"Well..." As I said that, Jones tripped on a blade of grass (quite traitorous, those blades of grass) and nearly fall on a particularly sharp rock, which would have impaled his eye, but just in time I used my awesome powers to stop him from dying. Jones squealed and ran away.  
  
"Hm. Maybe I should bring Kirk back. But he still has a nasty bump on his head..."  
  
Picard was still looking nastily at me. "Just get us all back to where we need to be, you... whatever you are."  
  
"Eh. Well, since Kirk's with me, he's kind've a temporary part of the Author Continuum, so that should heal up in about 20 seconds." As I said that, Kirk appeared. He glared at McCoy.  
  
"Time for some revenge I've been planning on for quite some time." He snapped his fingers, and McCoy was in a maid's outfit. McCoy stood aghast.  
  
"Wha- How did you do that?!" He shouted.  
  
I sighed. "I already told you, he's temporarily part of the Author Continuum." And with that, a Transformation Gun from the wonderful comic El Goonish Shive appeared in my hand, which I suggest you go read at www.elgoonishshive.com, and I pointed it at Kirk. "Change 'im back. I have a story to write, reviewers to please-"  
  
Jones looked confused. Again. Like always. "But, if you control everything, why do you have to please people?"  
  
I hesitated. "Er.... Well... The ultimate power you will ever know is the Reviewer. They are the ones who review our stories, and I for one love my reviews. It's kinda a sense that you aren't the only person who knows that you exist, and that you've managed to entertain someone while doing what you like. Or you just like 'em. Either or, really. But reviewers can have ultimate power over stories indirectly through influence, if not directly. They make suggestions, and we work to intigrate it into the story sometimes. Though sometimes stories have a predetermined plot and somewhere that the author wants it to go, kind of like this one. It doesn't have a plot, but I know where it's going to go. You won't find out until it gets there, but, well, that's life."  
  
Jones considered this.  
  
I then turned to look at Kirk. After fiddling with the Transformation Gun (TF Gun) for a few seconds, I zapped Kirk and he stopped floating in the air, and fell to the ground. I then snapped my fingers, and Picard appeared back in his normal time. "There, now everything's taken care of."  
  
"Ahem." McCoy. "I believe there's still the issue of my clothing."  
  
"No, there isn't."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Don't push me, because this TF Gun DOES have a 'Female' setting."  
  
McCoy fell silent.   
  
"Alright, does anyone else need anything?"  
  
"Well, I wouldn't mind being an author again-"  
  
"No chance, Kirk."  
  
"Hm. Okay, then maybe some plot advancement?"  
  
"I'm working on it. Next?"  
  
"That's about it."  
  
"Okay then." And in a completely unnecessary but completely cool puff of blue smoke, I disappeared.  
  
------  
  
So how was it? Good? I got rid of Picard, you can't complain about that, can you? And I'm serious about the Rhyming Time with Spock. Just ask :-) 


	9. Handfull of Grass

Disclaimer: I continue to stand by my ridiculous claims.  
  
Njong - Oh bob! Geebs! I Completely forgot 'bout the jolly ol' Knight's of Ni! I'll try and work 'em in... And of course I must ride Piccy. He's well... Piccy! And I'm not sure anyone's goin' to Castle Anthrax... I mean, God hasn't even given them the quest yet. So that's a ways in the future. I'll try and work Sulu and Chekov in, though. But I already have this chapter written, so I'll aim for the next.  
  
WHEE! NINE CHAPTERS!  
  
Kirk was angry at me again, so it'll be a few chapters before I appear again, unless the almight Plot shows up. But he's already 5 chapters late, so don't hold your breath.  
  
Anyways, onward. Kirk and his (not so) chivalrous crew decided toleave the Enterprise with Harry Mudd. Let HIM deal with the Klingons. Let HIM deal with it all. Kirk would be marginally happier that way.  
  
Soon, in their aimless travels, they came to a river, and therefore a bridge crossing over it, with what appeared to be two redshirts dukin' it out. One was Romulan, the other human.  
  
The human one leapt at the Romulan with a handful of grass. Upon seeing the handful of grass, the Romulan gave a cry of fright. The human redshirt saw his advantage, and moved in for the kill, throwing the grass at his cowering opponent.  
  
The grass impaled the Romulan, killing him quickly and painfully. With that, the human stood imposingly before the bridge. Several of Kirk's redshirts whipered at the sight of such cruelty, and Jones shuddered.  
  
Kirk was confused. So was Spock.  
  
"This is illogical." Spock. Naturally. "How could grass kill someone?"  
  
McCoy came to the rescue. Of who... well, why should I know? "They're redshirts, Spock. They die for absolutely no reason whatsoever."  
  
"That is-"  
  
"Illogical, sad, and true." Kirk looked serious. "Oh well. Let's go."  
  
"NONE shall pass." Said the redshirt guarding the bridge.  
  
Upon hearing those words, a redshirt spontaneously combusted. (For those who are keeping count at home, I believe that leaves 16 left. For those new to the story, I did a count a few chapters ago.)  
  
Kirk blinked. A redshirt had never been so blunt to him before! "Move!" He growled.  
  
"NONE shall p-" Just then, the gorund opened up and swallowed him. When the smoke cleared, I was standing there scowling. "Yes, I know I said I wouldn't be in this chapter, but I'm tired of the lack of a plot. So..." My voice deepened dramatically. "Kirk... Captain of the Enterpri- OW!" I was cut off by a stone. That hit me. In the forehead. And it was thrown by - "KIRK!!!"   
  
Kirk jumped. "AH!" He turned tail to flee my wrath.  
  
I took off after him like a shot from a bow.  
  
Then the old music where everyone's chasing each other started playing. The location they were playing from is as yet undisclosed.  
  
A threw paper, grass, and air molecules at Kirk before remembering that this wasn't Picard's era, and Captain's were made of sterner stuff, even if the redshirts weren't. Then I threw a rock at Kirk. It hit him in the back of the head, knocking him over.  
  
As I walked over to him and stoof over him, a TF Gun appeared in my hand.  
  
"Don't do that again." I said menacingly. "I KILL YOU!"   
  
"No you won't-"  
  
"Jim, I'd do what he says if I were you." McCoy cautioned.  
  
"Who asked you?"  
  
I sighed, and zapped Kirk into a cat. I picked him up with my free arm and started mumbling. "Great. Now I have to get a new Captain again. I'm not getting Picard, either. Maybe I'll grab that Bolam character, or maybe her First Officer. What's his name...? Oh, yeah, Jahoam. What a great guy, he'll make an excellent replacement Captain..." And so on.  
  
Everyone else was still shocked that their Captain was currently.  
  
Jones managed to squeak something out.  
  
"Wha?" I turned around to him.  
  
"Would you mind - uh - turning the Captain back to - er - his normal form, sir?"  
  
"Hm. Sure." I dropped Kirk and shot him back to human. "But he's still gonna be gone for a little bit." I snapped my fingers and he disappeared. "Gotta find a replacement Captain... I should get two people, because one from that era has absolutely no competency. Unlike me. I'm a competent sausage cutter."   
  
Everyone looked at me funny as a giant Yard o' Beef appeared in my hand. I pulled the wrapping back, and started cutting completely evenly. I ate the first piece, but then started to offer to the others. "Any of you want some beef?"  
  
"I am a -" Spock began.  
  
"Vegetarian, I know. Anyone else?"  
  
McCoy half raised a hand. "Got any cheese or crackers?"  
  
With a snap of my fingers, a giant table appeared in front of us, filled with every type of cheese, cracker, and meat. And some soup, for Spock. He nodded to my in thanks, and everyone else began digging in. Another snap, and two more tables appeared, with random little bits of food about them. "Dig in, one and all!"  
  
"Vhy not?" Chekov reasoned.  
  
******  
  
Soon after the feast (halfway through which I had disappeared) the group was soon moving again. They had barely gone anywhere when the sky opened up with lots and lots of thunder. Bright light poured from inside the opening, and everyone in the group averted their eyes. McCoy, who had read ahead in the script (script? What script? I didn't make any script!), whispered to the others. "This must be God! The plot's going to advance!"  
  
At this announcement, a little mini-cheer went up. "Plot advancement! I thought that was just a fable..."  
  
"I believed it! I always have, and always will!"  
  
"No you didn't!" This and several other remarks like it mingled with the cheers. Soon, the light grew even stronger, and a big booming voice spoke to them...  
  
******  
  
Eheheheh... Well, now that you've read, just go click that little button down there... It says 'review'... At least, I think it does. 


	10. The Quest for the Holy Plot

I'm trying to keep up a steady updating schedule, but I also have to work on schoolwork and some original, like Phase Type-3 I have at FictionPress.net. So don't be alarmed (and by that I mean, don't show up at my house with pitchforks, torches, rodent monstrocities with sharp, pointy teeth!!! fwaaah!((What an eccentric performance...))) if I don't have many updates quickly. I do try and start writing them by hand at school, so it can get started and therefore finished sooner. And then there's always the possibility of me going to Pirates of the Carribean... What a great movie...   
  
Njong - Enough rambling; down to business. Yeah, so evil... That's me... Evil... Hopefully I'll squeeze some laughs outta ye... My sole remaining reviewer. And I'm trying to work in the Knights. The Romulans of Ni? The Klingons of Ni? The Trekkers of TNG? Hm... There's a thought... And May Solo may just be a solo reviewer after what I had to say...   
  
To everyone else out there who's reading this, start/continue/keep reviewing! (And yes, I realize that continue and keep mean essentially the same things. I did that because... er... just... Don't question my methods!)  
  
*  
  
I was in a pickle. Not literally, of course, but rhetorically. You see, I want to get a plot advanced in this, while at the same time keeping the characters in character and the reviewers reviewing. That's not to say that a plot is bad, it's just that with a plot people will eventually realize where you're going and then you can't include the randomness that has trademarked the past few chapters. So explains the booming voice.  
  
"You have been charged with a quest." It boomed. "Your quest is of the absolute HIGHEST importance."  
  
Sometime around this point, everyone there was blinded by a white light that was, to put to it in a nutshell, blinding. If you want it out of the said nutshell, go ask Spock.  
  
"You have been charaged with the Quest... to find the Holy Plot!"  
  
Everyone gaped at the light, assuming that the voice was coming from there. It wasn't, because I was just throwing it in for effect, so they assumed wrong and made complete idiots out of themselves.  
  
"I'm over here!" The voice boomed. When everyone (except Spock) looked around in confusion, it groaned. "What, do you people mean that you can't see in my dimension? Well, come ON, humanity!"  
  
"Ahem." Spock cleared his throat.  
  
"Oh, fine, and Vulcanity. You guys really need to see in here..."  
  
"Well, why don't you just come to our dimension?" Jones asked innocently enough from where he was standing. Well, I suppose that 'cowering' is a more appropriate term, since he was hiding under a pile of leaves while the other redshirts were astounded at his bravery for going under leaves. After all, one could drowned in those things!  
  
"'Why don't you just come to our dimension,'" The voice mocked. Boomingly. "Well, did you ever stop to consider that I CAN'T come to your dimension?!" There was a sniffle. That boomed.  
  
"So you can't come to our dimension?" Jones asked. Meekly.  
  
"Er, well, you could say that..."  
  
"Or?" McCoy prompted.  
  
"Or... you could say that I don't know how..."  
  
"Or?"  
  
"Or... you could say that I don't want to..."  
  
"Because?"  
  
"Well... it's comfortable up here!"  
  
They looked extremely thoughtful at that remark. "You make a good argument." McCoy allowed after a few minutes.  
  
"That's right! I make the BEST argument!" Boomed the voice that booms. I'll call him Boomy.  
  
"If I may inquire, how would we be able to accomplish this quest that you have bestowed upon us?" Spock questioned in an attempt to restore a sense of order (read: illusion of order), and therefore sanity.  
  
"You'll find a plot. Duh."  
  
"That is illogical. If we where to go on a quest to find a plot, would that not eliminate the need to find a plot, since it is, in it's own way, a plot?" Spock. Naturally.  
  
Silence. Naturally.  
  
"Hmph. I never thought of that. I never WOULD of that of that."  
  
"I had assumed as much."  
  
"Okay, your quest is to find the HOLY plot. And this quest, or plot, as you put it, to find the Holy Plot is most definately not holy. far from it, actually." Boomy boomed after a few minutes.   
  
"Fair enough." McCoy said. "Shut up, Spock." He added when Spock opened his mouth to speak. "But where's Jim? Do you know?"  
  
"I don't know, but I know that he'll be okay."  
  
"How?"  
  
Boomy sounded exasperated. "Because you forgot one very important thing. He's Captain Jim Kirk!" 


	11. Guides Through the Lands of the Plotless

Disclaimer: I don't own star trek... I own boomy, and Wedge Jahoam. Empress Leia owns Jaeih Bolam and the Rhianna.  
  
Yay! Interest!  
  
Njong - The Vulcan's of Ni... Hm...This has possibilities. Probably be more the Vulcans of Illogical... sacred keepers of the words Illogical, Logical, Ni, and NEEEEEEWONG.   
  
Ariennye - Well, he's really just a randomly inserted redshirt with Romulan makeup... oh.. wait... I am being informed that he was an actual Romulan... Oh well! There's more. Somewhere. Probably the Romulan Empire. And Chekov has been in here since near the beginging. He just hasn't done anything.  
  
And without further delay, chapter 11!  
  
---  
  
After a few minutes of silence, McCoy spoke up again. "That's a pretty crappy reason for him to be okay. It's actually more of a reason for him not to be okay, actually. What, with all the Klingon's and Romulans and other people who want to kill him, and wouldn't mind killing us..."  
  
"I have no idea what you just said." Boomy seemed to look at everyone else. "Do you have any idea what he was trying to say?"  
  
"I believe he was implying that your reasoning for our Captain to be unharmed was poor, and that it was a reason that he would be harmed." Spock spoke up. Everyone else just gave a general look that said 'What he said.' Who that was referring to we have yet to find out.  
  
"Hm." Boomy sighed. Boomingly. "Oh, whatever. Moving on. I have not been authorized by the, uh, author, to give you Kirk back. However, you can't be going through this thing without some sort of leader. So..." There was a puff of smoke, and two people appeared in the midst of the Enterprise's crew. One was a guy, the other a girl. They looked quite surprised. And confused.  
  
"Wedge, what are we doing here?"  
  
"How should I know...?"  
  
Boomy ignored what they were saying. "This is Commander Wedge Jahoam and Captain Jaeih Bolam of the.. uh, Rhianna, I think. They are experts in the Lands of the Plotless. They have braved two RPGs which your author and Empress Leia have, and both are entirely plotless."  
  
"What's an 'RPG'?" Jones asked. It seems that he always gets the job of asking these sorts of questions.  
  
"Trust me, kid, you don't want to know." Jahoam commented.  
  
Jones seemed to consider, then nodded. "I'll take your word on it." He then crawled over to the bright light that I inserted and whispered, "What's an RPG?"  
  
Jahoam, and most of the people there, rolled there eyes. Boomy rolled his R's.  
  
"An RPG is a Role-Playing Game. It's kind of like a story, except it's different. I don't know, I'm to lazy to explain." He boomed. "And Jones, I'm not the light. I'm just an ominous voice. Your 'all-powerful' author threw the light in for effect."  
  
"No I didn't!" I shouted, even though I did put it in. Well, in the end, I put it in. For the purposes of this story, I didn't. God did.  
  
"Oh, well, then it's the light at the end of the tunnel. In which case... HOLY CRAP! JONES IS DYING!" Never heard a booming voice named Boomy shout, did you?   
  
"AHHHH!" Jones turned around twice (ending him back up where he started) and ran in a straight line, which, in this case, was straight into the bright light.  
  
Bolam sighed. "Guess it's time for us to do what we're getting payed for." She raised her arms and started chanting some stuff. When she was done, Jones ran back towards them. She looked pleased, while everyone else looked shocked. Including Wedge.  
  
"You're getting payed?!"  
  
"How did you get Jones to come back here? No matter what we've ever tried, he always keeps running. Always!" Sulu said.  
  
"And what was with that chanting?" McCoy was frazzled. "I've tried hypo's, I've tried... well, more hypo's, I've tried yelling..."  
  
"You're being payed?!"  
  
Jaeih raised her arms for silence. "All your questions will be answered in time."  
  
Jones ran past. "THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL IS AN ONCOMING TRAIN!!! WE'RE DOOMED!"  
  
Jaeih was unfazed. "It appears the time for answers has come. The chanting was just some mumbo jumbo I used to make it look like magic while I told Jones to come back with my telepathy - I'm a betazoid - And wait, what?" She suddenly noticed that she was all alone. Everyone else was behind Jones, who was still running away.   
  
Well, she wasn't ALL alone. There was a train that was coming right at her, because she was standing on the train track that had suddenly appeared. "What the...? AH!" Then she turned and ran after everyone else, shouting at them.   
  
--  
  
You like? Short, sweet, and completely random. Just thought I'd put something up... Trying to break a writer's block that's forming. Anyways, just click the little review button, and everyone will be happy! And yes, I did write this in under a half hour. 


	12. They need to find the Holy Grail soon

Ariennye - No, I spelt it right. *Shows a dictionary* See? It's... right! *Slams the book closed when you lean in to look, then runs off* I'm eeevil!  
  
Ah, er, hm.. Just expect more random randomness. All I can say.  
  
--  
  
The whole group was still running a few hours later. Spock hadn't once gotten out breath. Niether had Jones, he looked like he was running from a rampaging mule. Or worse. The rest of them were out of breath, though. McCoy panted alongside Jones.   
  
"How- do you - do this - so - much?" He gasped out. "Good grief - I'm starting - to sound - like Jim!"  
  
Spock was just in front of McCoy, and heard McCoy's question. "Doctor, I believe that Ensign Jones has gotten to the point where he does not become worn out easily through conditioning, something which it appears that you could use."  
  
"What - is that - supposed - to mean?!"  
  
"It is 'supposed to mean' that you appear to be out of shape."  
  
"Did you - just - insult - me?!"  
  
"Doctor, it would not be advisable for you to keep talking. You will conserve your strength better if you don't." During this brief interlude, Spock and McCoy had fallen a little behind. With that, Spock, however, easily regained the lead. McCoy tried to catch up, but couldn't, and ended up next to Jones again. McCoy asked Jones again how he had gotten so conditioned - with all his injuries, he never had time to work out in the gym. But McCoy got the same answer - from Jones, anyway. Spock chose not to intervene again.  
  
McCoy scowled. "Damnit - I'm a - doctor - not a - marathon - runner!"  
  
All the while, however, Boomy had been pacing the group. More like floating above them, since he was, after all, just a disembodied voice. But he had gotten bored after all their running, and decided to make conversation with Spock.  
  
"So, you're a half Vulcan, eh?"  
  
Spock nodded.  
  
"How's that working for you?"  
  
Spock looked as confused as he ever does - that is, not at all - for a moment, then answered. "I do not understand your termiology."   
  
There was a booming sigh. "How's life treating you?"  
  
"Since life is not a living entity, at all sentient, life cannot - "  
  
"Oh, you're impossible!" Boomy boomed, and floated back to McCoy. "How do you put up with him?"  
  
"I - don't!" McCoy gasped out.  
  
Delivered by that announcement was a moment of silence, then Boomy responded. "Y'know, Spock's right, though. You really need some conditioning." And delivered by that remark was a murderous doctor. Who knew.  
  
Boomy got bored by McCoy, and moved over to Wedge and Jaeih. "So, you guys are in the guide business?"  
  
"You're getting paid?!" Wedge cried out. For the 20th time in the past, well, 20 minutes.  
  
Bolam decided to answer for him. "Yes, in our free time, which we haven't been getting much of. They've recently gotten more interested in us, apparently, or at least our RPG, so we've been getting less then normal."  
  
"But we did have that big vacation. How long was that? Four, five weeks?"  
  
Bolam nodded. "Something around there, yeah. So we've been putting togethor some extra cash."   
  
"You're getting paid?!"  
  
"At least, I've been putting some extra cash togethor. He, apparently, isn't getting paid."  
  
"I still can't believe you're getting paid..." Wedge mumbled.  
  
"Wedge?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Shut up!"   
  
Boomy slowly floated away from them. They were... odd. He mosied on over to Sulu and Chekov, who were having what appeared to be a sane conversation. He doubted it, since he knew me, but that's what it looked like.  
  
"Am I ze only von who's noticed zat zere is no train anymore?"  
  
"No, Pav. I noticed it a long time ago, and brought it up with Mr. Spock. Apparently, he noticed it as soon as it disappeared, but decided to stay with us because if we got lost, no one would be able to find us, mystical booming voice or not. Personally, I agree."  
  
"Yes, but, vhy are ve still running?"  
  
"You want to try and tell that to Jones?"  
  
"Touche."  
  
"Man, you guys are boring!" Boomy growled. Boomingly, of course. So he floated around, looking for someone new to talk to. He eventually made his way back to Bolam and Wedge.   
  
"Y'know, it's kinda your job to keep these people from getting lost."  
  
Wedge wasn't in a good mood. He was kinda gloomy. "No, it's not. People who have jobs get paid!!"  
  
Bolam shook her head as she ran next to him. "I guess it is kinda my job..."  
  
"You're right it is!" Boomy said. "Now go ease my boredom - er, halt this mad dash!"  
  
"You're right!" Jaeih ran up to the front of the mob. Well, tried. Spock was still ahead of her. "Er, Spock?"  
  
"Yes, Captain?"  
  
"Could you kinda... slow down? I have an announcement to make, and I want to be in front to do it."  
  
"Of course, Captain."  
  
"Thank you." Jaeih ran ahead of him, then began running backwards. She rose her voice. "If I could have your attention?" Normally, that doesn't get people attention. This time was no exception. "Excuse me!" Nothing. "Excuse me!!" Nadda. "EXCUSE ME!" A few heads turned. "EXCUSE ME!!!!" That did the trick. For all of them except Jones. He kept running, and Jaeih stuck out her foot to trip him. McCoy lunged.   
  
"No, don't do that you'll - "  
  
Jones squealed. "OW! MY ANKLE!"  
  
McCoy hung his head in defeat. "Twist his ankle."  
  
Jaeih scowled. "Well, soooorrrry!"  
  
McCoy shot Jones with a hypo to ease the pain. "Alright, Jones, you should know the routine by now."  
  
"Yeah, yeah... limp, get sympathy..."  
  
McCoy looked over his shoulder at the others. "He never mentioned anything about getting sympathy before."  
  
Boomy laughed. "Yes! This is what I want! Bolam, if I ever need a guide, you're hired!"  
  
"We only do the lands of the plotless. Dangerous lands."  
  
"We?! You're the one getting paid!!" Wedge growled.  
  
"And you're the one following my orders."  
  
"Hmph. Have to bring rank into it, don't you?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Y'know, it's an unwritten law that you can only pull rank if it's appropriate." Boomy voiced. Er, boomed. Er... whatever!  
  
"Where'd you hear that?"  
  
"I dunno. I think I read it somewhere."  
  
  
  
--  
  
Well, I made some plot progression. They aren't running anymore. And Jones won't be causing any more mad dashes, with his ankle the way it is. Well, actually, being Jones, he probably will. I really can't tell what's going to happen 5 sentences from now. A lot of it comes from reviews, actually... 


	13. Spock and The Almighty

I LIIIIVE! Now I must live long enough to think enough to make a chapter... Hm... troubled times, these are!  
  
MySchemingMind - Thanks for the support! Though, it's not okay to be crazy just once in a while... It's required!  
  
Now I'll try and cook up another Chapter that actually has that strange thing called plot progression.   
  
--  
  
"All right, there you go." McCoy said, a few hours later. He had just finished fixing up Jones' ankle. "Now, don't put too much weight on it, and you'll be just fine." Just then, there was a buzzing sound in the air. Jones looked around, extremely startled.  
  
"What's that?" He asked. McCoy got nervous.  
  
"Uh.... It's just a... er..."  
  
The object of inquisition, and the object that was making the noise, caught Jones' eye. "AHHH! A BEE!" He dove into the mud and cowered. McCoy sighed. Then Spock put his two cents in.  
  
"Actually, Ensign, this arthropod is not a bee. It is a wasp."  
  
Jones sprang up, and turned to run, when Jahoam caught him by the shoulders.  
  
"Oh, bloody hell." Bolam mumbled, and caught the wasp in a jar. "See, Ensign? It can't hurt you now." The wasp was too busy ramming the sides of the jar trying to get out to bother anyone. It looked extremely angry.  
  
Jones relaxed in Jahoam's grip, and Jahoam let go. Jones didn't run.  
  
McCoy looked on in amazement. "How... but... how did you..."  
  
Boomy was chuckling in his strange, booming way. "Ooooh, this is too much!"  
  
Spock looked at where the voice was projecting from quizzically. "What is so humorous, sir?"  
  
"You people - and Vulcans - and-!" Came the booming reply. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"  
  
Spock decided that Boomy must have been at least formerly human, as he was completely illogical.  
  
"So, where are you guys trying to go?" Jahoam asked, dusting himself off.  
  
He got no reply for quite a while, as Jones was still quite excited (Read- really scared) over the bee/wasp debacle. After a long wait, Spock answered.  
  
"We are currently on the quest to find the Holy Plot." Spock said gravely. That set Boomy off on another bout of laughter, and forced a chuckle out of Jahoam. Trust me, if you had heard Spock saying it that way, you would have laughed, too.  
  
"I fail to understand the behavior of humans..." Spock started.  
  
"Ahem!"  
  
"And disembodied voices."  
  
"Thank you!"  
  
After Jahoam had forced himself to calm down, he continued his impromptu interrogation. "And do you have any idea what that, er, is?"  
  
Before Spock could reply, McCoy injected his thoughts. "How would we? We've never seen a decent plot anywhere! Even back in the good old days with Gene [1], most of the plots weren't all that decent, when you thought about them, if they existed at all."  
  
"Yeah... My authors don't know what a plot is, much less how to make a decent one."   
  
Their little chat was cut abruptly short with a bright light from the sky and a booming voice, though different from Boomy's booming voice.  
  
"Spock... Captain of the Enterprise..." This was, of course, God.   
  
And Spock, being Spock, couldn't go without correcting the almighty.  
  
"Actually, I am only the acting-Captain of the Enterprise. Captain Kirk is the captain."  
  
That stopped everyone short - even Boomy didn't laugh. There came an almighty sigh after a long while.  
  
"Spock, you know that I could smite you where you stand."  
  
Spock looked skeptical at where he thought the voice was coming from. He was right.  
  
"Don't you look skeptically at me! Here, watch!" There was a flash of light, and five red shirts suddenly fell over, dead. Whether it was the work of God or they simply had sudden heart attacks, nobody ever will know.  
  
Spock was, even after that, not impressed. "You have killed some of our Security officers. However, that is not an overly difficult task."  
  
God grumbled. "True enough. But can I please continue? Even if you don't believe me, you believe the author, and he'll strike you dead if I can't continue."  
  
Spock considered this, and nodded for Him to continue.  
  
"Thank you. Now, as I was saying...  
  
"Spock... Acting-Captain of the Enterprise... I have am hereby charging you with the most holy of quests... You shall find the Holy Plot!"  
  
There was a murmur.   
  
"Uh, your Lordship," McCoy began nervously. "I dislike correcting you like this, but we are already on that quest."  
  
A silence.  
  
Then an Almighty 'BAH!'  
  
"Fine! I'll find something else for you..." There was a booming sound of shuffling papers. "Hm... okay, this has been left untouched for a long time..." He said after a long while. "Many centuries ago, around 950 AD in your Earth-years, I charged another with this quest. His name was King Arthur. But he was an idiot and got arrested."  
  
Spock cleared his throat.  
  
"What?!" God shouted.  
  
"If it was approximately 950 AD, there would be no police to arrest someone; and King Arthur was fictional."  
  
"Okay, who's the god here, huh? You, or me? Yeah, me. That's what I thought. So shut up and let me finish!"  
  
Spock opened his mouth to say something. What, we may never know, for God cut him off.  
  
"No! Just zip it!"  
  
Spock wisely kept his mouth closed this time.  
  
"Thank you!" God cleared his own throat. "Now, as I was saying, Arthur was an idiot, and his Knights of the Round Table worse, and they all got either killed or arrested. And I forgot about it for a few centuries. But now I looked around, and here it is. You are charged to find the Holy Grail. A good quest, if you ask me."  
  
Spock spoke again. "We did not ask you."  
  
God groaned. "You know what? Just find the freaking Grail, okay? And have your Captain back, he's annoying. And I'll be taking your guides. And just stop asking me stuff. No!" He said when Spock began to object to something again. "Just don't!"  
  
With that, Kirk appeared in front of them, Wedge and Jaeih disappeared, and another chapter ended.  
  
--  
  
There, how's that? Short, yes, and it took a really long time to get out, but it's out. And I'll try my best to have another sooner.   
  
[1] Gene is from some of Tavia's stories. The Mask of Stella and Down With the Sets AKA Everybody Goes Nuts I know he's in for sure, but I'm not sure if he's in anything else. And no, I'm no dissin' her stories - they're awesome (better then anything I've done), but consider it from the characters perspective... 


	14. What we got here is a failure to communi...

Hey! Look! An update! Amazingly amazing. After I left you so stable on solid ground last time. This one has been a long time in coming, I know, but I have a feeling it'll be good... I'm in a random mood (I mean, c'mon, I'm listening to Shipoopi and various other songs from the Music Man), so, yeah.  
  
--  
  
Kirk looked around, bewildered. "Uh... You weren't there a moment ago."   
  
"Yes, Captain, we were." Spock responded.  
  
Kirk skewered Spock with a glare, and turned to McCoy. "Seriously, Bones, you weren't here a minute ago. And neither was any of this stuff. The trees, the grass, none of it."  
  
Spock opened his mouth and was promptly kicked by McCoy. "Doctor, why are you kicking me?"  
  
McCoy ignored him. "Y'know, maybe you're right. Go ask Jones about it. He'd know if we moved."  
  
Kirk looked skeptical, but went anyway. When he got to Jones, he started to talk. Jones took one look and screamed.   
  
"AHHHH! GHOST!!" Then he broke off at a run, closely pursued by Kirk.   
  
"I'm not a ghost, Ensign!" Kirk's shout went unheeded by anyone, as it was covered up by Jones' yelling.   
  
"GHOOOSSST! GHOSTGHOSTGHOST GHOSSSSST!"  
  
Kirk broke off the chase, seeing as how a redshirt who thought he was being chased by a ghost, and who also was contracted to this story as long as he didn't die, was uncatchable by mortal man. He sighed, and turned to Spock.   
  
"So, who's fault do you think that is?"  
  
"What is?"  
  
"Jones' fear of ghosts, and his belief that I'm a ghost."  
  
"Jones' fear of ghosts most likely came from Tavia (A/N: Y'know, I don't think there was anything where he ran from ghosts before, but, c'mon, he's Jones)." Spock surmised.  
  
Kirk sighed. "Of course. And his belief that I'm a ghost?"  
  
"From our current Author."  
  
Kirk paused. And kept pausing, as he presumably contemplated that. Then he opened his mouth wide, and began to bellow. "AUUUUTTTHOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"  
  
With a flash, I appeared before him. "You rang?"  
  
"Go get Jones back."  
  
"No."  
  
"Do it."  
  
"I regret to decline your invitation."  
  
"I regret to announce that I don't care. Do it."  
  
"Hey, who's the author?"  
  
"Who's the Captain?"  
  
"Authors better."  
  
"No it isn't."  
  
"Okay, Author ranks higher."  
  
"How?"  
  
"We write what you do."  
  
"Do not."  
  
"Do to."  
  
"Do not."  
  
"Do to."  
  
"Do not."  
  
"Do to."  
  
"Do not."  
  
"Do to."  
  
"Do not."  
  
"Do not."  
  
"Do to - Hey! Cheater!"  
  
"Comes from quoting Jack too much."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Skip it."  
  
Confused yet? Me, too.   
  
"Okay, fine, Author may rank higher, but I'm the Author in Revenge of the Red-Shirts. I'll do something mean to you." Kirk smirked. Hey, it rhymes!  
  
I scowled. "Fine. What did you want, again?"   
  
"Go get Jones."   
  
"If I must..." With that, I disappeared with a poof.  
  
--  
  
A split second later, I reappeared in front of Jones with a similiar poof. "STOP!" I commanded. He tried to screech to a halt and turn around, but knocked me over and kept running.   
  
As I pulled myself up from the ground, I shook my head. "Never underestimate the power of a scared red-shirt..."  
  
Again, I disappeared and reappeared by Jones, but this time I floated above him. "Stop!" I commanded again.  
  
"No!"  
  
"What are you running from?"  
  
"I forgot!"  
  
"So why not stop?"  
  
"Because it's still chasing me!"  
  
It sounded logical to me. Of course, logic has absolutely NO place in my stories.   
  
"Fine! But watch out for the wall."  
  
"Wall? What wall-" Then there was a loud 'SMACK' and Jones bounced back from the air and hit the ground.  
  
"The invisible one I put in there earlier." I smiled at him apologetically.  
  
"Why me? I think I'm dying! AGH!" Jones wailed.  
  
"Did anyone ever tell you that you're a drama queen?" I inquired thoughtfully.  
  
"Yes, frequently."  
  
I nodded. "Thought so."  
  
Then Jones resumed his wailing.  
  
"Oh, cut it out." I moaned. "That wall was specifically designed so it couldn't hurt people, just stop them." I shook my head. "Now lets go."   
  
"Go where?"  
  
"Back to Kirk."  
  
"AHHH! The ghost!" Jones sprang up and ran into the wall again, with the same result.  
  
I buried my face in my hands. "How does he do it?" I mumbled to myself.   
  
Jones got up and dusted himself off.   
  
"Okay, look, Kirk ain't a ghost. So... no running off, okay?" I stared at him.  
  
"Ghost! Where?!" He began to run at the wall again, but I caught him by the collar before he got there.   
  
"Jones, you're running towards the ghost. See?" I pointed, and a ghost appeared just beyond the wall.   
  
Jones screamed again and run back towards where Kirk and Co where waiting.  
  
I did my disappearing act, and reappeared with the above-mentioned Co just as Jones was arriving. He saw Kirk and started to turn and run, but found himself trapped in an invisible box.  
  
"No more running off. And remember, that's the way towards the ghost." I looked at him sincerely.  
  
"But there's a ghost right there!" Jones' eyes were wide with fright.  
  
"Jones, he never died." I'm not sure why I tried to reason with him, but I did.  
  
"Yes he did! I read the script! He's dead!" He took out a bunch of papers. "See!"  
  
I looked confused, then my eyes went wide. "No! How'd you get your hands on that? That's not the script for this, that's - " At this point I became aware of a smoldering glare from Kirk. "Uh, that's someone elses." I may be the author, but, well, he's Kirk. He'd scare you if you got him angry at you. "Anyway, give me those." I grabbed the papers from him, and put him in a randomly appearing bag, which just as promptly randomly disappeared.   
  
Kirk looked at me. "You have no intention of giving those back, do you?"  
  
"I already did."  
  
"No you didn't."  
  
"Yes I did. They were mine. You see, I had this idea for a really tragic story and angst and stuff where everyone dies a while back." I cringed a little.  
  
  
  
"And...?" Kirk prompted threateningly.   
  
I cringed a bit more. "Er... I kinda changed the series."  
  
"To...?"  
  
"Your comepetitors. I'm killing off everyone there, so, er, be happy. You don't have to die. At least, not by my hands or not yet." I shrugged innocently. "No guaruntee's about other people's stories."  
  
He considered this. "Hm... good enough."  
  
"Alright, now that we've wasted an entire chapter with Jones' chase, we should get moving," I decided. "And yes, we have to." I added when others opened their mouths to voice their objections.  
  
"Wait a minute. Vhat 'we'?" Chekov asked. "Does this mean that you're coming vith us?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Does this mean we can have wodka vhenever we vant?"  
  
Another nod.  
  
"Okay, just clarifying."  
  
"Uh, why?" Sulu asked.  
  
"It's more interesting then going to shool." I got a look of disgust. "And I wanna make sure you don't get into more trouble like that little wasp incident again."  
  
"Ah."  
  
There was a pause. Everyone obviously expected someone to say something. The silence stretched on. Without a break.  
  
McCoy finally broke the silence. "Well, you pointy-eared Vulcan, what are you waiting for?"  
  
Another silence, but much shorter.  
  
"Well?"  
  
I looked puzzled. "It was in the script for him to say something. Why isn't he speaking up?"  
  
Everyone shrugged more or less at the same time.  
  
"Hm... come to think of it, where is he?"  
  
Another unanimous shrug.  
  
Jones gave a little squeak. "Uh... I may of seen someone who looked kind of ominiscent - like you but wearing black - hit him with a whack-bonk and drag him away..."  
  
"A whack-bonk?!" I growled a little. "Those aren't for characters! They're only for authors! And why didn't you say anything?"  
  
  
  
"I tried, he pulled out a pen and paper and wrote something down and then I couldn't talk until he left." Jones squeaked in his defence.  
  
"And why didn't you until now?"  
  
"Uh... I kinda forgot."  
  
I paused, and then summoned up a tree next to me.  
  
"What's that for?" McCoy asked.  
  
"This." Then I started hitting my head against the tree. "Why. Is. This. Happening. To. Me. What. Did. I. Do. To. Deserve. It."  
  
"I take it you know this man?"  
  
"He's the Black Author. He has plagued the stories of authors for ages. He's also known as Writers Block, or at least the cause. And he's why your schedule is always cluttered up when you try and write something. He's never been this open before, though, and no character has ever seen him and remembered it." I sighed. "He leaves them a special script, and they read it, and it tells them to forget, so they do. How Jones remembered is beyond anyone's guess."  
  
Jones shrugged. "Well, that's easy. I just didn't read the script." At that I nodded, and then resumed banging my head against the tree.  
  
Kirk spoke up. "I don't know about you people, but we need to do something about this."  
  
I lifted my head again. "By the powers, yer right!" I thought. "We need to rescue Spock! Now, men, this will be a dangerous and risky attempt, but - "  
  
"Risks?!" Kirk began.   
  
"Oh no."   
  
"Risks are our business! When man first looked out at the stars - " There was another loud whack, and then a bonk. I looked at them all evenly, holding my whack-bonk in my hand. A round of applause went up.  
  
"Now, as I was saying, we should all be okay if we stay togethor, and nobody leaves my sight. Got it?"  
  
Everyone there nodded.  
  
"Hey, where'd Chekov, Sulu, Scotty, and the Redshirts go?" I looked around.  
  
McCoy looked up. "They left when you started your little speech to track down the Black Author."  
  
I sighed. It was going to be a long rescue attempt. 


	15. In which we find some action and some pl...

Okay, a relatively quick chapter. At least, at the time that I'm writing this. I mean, it's quick for me... And I actually have some resemblence of a plot. Isn't that strange? Hm...  
  
---  
  
Sulu shook his head as they traveled through an amazingly dense forest. "I don't know, guys. I've got a bad feeling about this. I think we should have waited for the Author. Then at least we'd have something to combat this 'Black Author', or whatever, with."  
  
"Ach, ladd, what are ye afraid of? There's no way that this Black Author is going to pull one o'er this Scot." Scotty looked at them. "And I doubt that 'e'll get one o'er ye. But..." He turned to look at the Redshirts. "I'm not so confident about them."  
  
"Me, either." Chekov voiced.   
  
"Who would be? I just brought them along because people outside of Starfleet don't know about them, and there's safety in numbers." Sulu reasoned.  
  
"Not vhen ve're going against an Author."  
  
"Aye. This Author character (A/N: Heh, oxymoron...) would most likely be able to cut through these Redshirts with a wave of 'is hand." Scotty reasoned.   
  
"Actually..." a deep, cultured, and fairly - and amused voice crept in from above them. "I wouldn't have to even wave my hand. Just think on it a little. Like this..." There was a large flash, and all of the Redshirts spontaneously combusted, creating another flash of light. This one blinded the three Starfleet officers - Jones wasn't with them, luckily, for even a contract couldn't save him from the Black Author - and when the flash was gone, there was a large, opposing figure who bore a strong resemblence to me except in the fact that his skin was a darker shade - more tan - and that he was clothed entirely in black.   
  
Sulu's eyes wided, Scotty's eyes hardened, and Chekov's eyes narrowed all at once.  
  
The Black Author laughed. "Now, you are not so foolish as to fall for some of my more petty tricks. Maybe I should kill you in a way you would appreciate - a way that you could feel." He laughed his evil laugh again, which was actually more of a screeching giggle. Rather wimpish, really.   
  
The three officers grimaced.  
  
"What? You don't like my laugh?" The Black Author looked hurt. "What's wrong with it?"  
  
Chekov looked at Scotty and Sulu, then at the Black Author. "You're going to kill us anyvay, right?"  
  
"Uh... uh, yeah. Yeah, I am. Had to think a minute there, but yeah, yeah I am."  
  
"Vell, then, it's a bit... feminine." Chekov said uneasily. "Please don't take this the wrong way."  
  
The Black Author frowned. "Are you... do you... did he... he did... you dare... why did..." He cleared his throat. "Ah, that is to say, You, a mere character, DARE to insult the greatness, the plague, that is I?! The Black Author?! The Writers Block! The Ultimate Bane of Authors! You infidel!" He made a fist. "I will CRUSH you!"   
  
Sulu frowned suddenly. "Uh, hate to interrupt you, but your shoe's untied."  
  
"Aye, and ye seem to 'ave angered a great many Greek Gods and Goddesses." Scotty added.  
  
The Ultimate Bane of Authors (Let's call him TUBA) looked down to discover that his shoe was, indeed, untied, and then looked up to see that the Ancient Greek Gods and Goddesses. Zeus smiled a cruel smile, waved, and hurled a lightning bolt, which was followed by a hail of arrows from Artemis, Demeter, Athena, and Apollo, and an already-bloody spear from Ares.  
  
They all collided with TUBA and sent him flying through the woods, destroying trees as he went. But soon he was back, hurt but apparently ready for more. Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov had already fled, and as he noticed that and swore to himself, the ground shook vioilently, spilling him to the ground. Poseidon, in his ever-lasting bad mood, was having the first bit of fun in a while, and wasn't going to pass off with some minor earthquake. This was the mother of all Earthquake, and it would have lasted if TUBA hadn't conjured up a whack-bonk and taken care of the ancient God.   
  
TUBA then conjured up a long-range whack-bonk, and nailed Artemis just as Zeus hurled another lightning bolt. Both of the attacks struck, sending the recievers to the ground, at the same time Heracles, God of Strength, jumped down to go mano y mano. He immediatly got into a fight with TUBA, but stayed facing his fellow Gods, so they could still hit TUBA.  
  
The epic battle continued, while Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov continued to run off. Suddenly, they were picked up with a flash and carried at a rate beyond the speed of any known, one that seemed to be past warp 10. They looked around, and saw to their amazement that they were being carried by Hermes. As they saw him, they stopped, and were in front of me and the rest of the Starfleet crew.  
  
I nodded my thanks to Hermes, and he ran off to help the Gods and Goddesses. I then looked at the three who had snuck off, angry. "What were you thinking?! Most characters are trying to run away from the layer of the Black Author, not towards it. You could have been wiped off the face of the existence!"  
  
"Ve are not afraid of dying to save a friend." Chekov said in their defense.  
  
"Did I say die? No, I said wiped off the face of existence. You would never of existed. You could have changed history!" I snapped.  
  
"How?"  
  
"If you never existed, how could you do the things you've done? Some of it may of still been done, but not by you, and therefore your dimensions history would be different. Most likely, all the people here would be dead 5 times over if you had never existed. Yes, this is an ego boost for all of you, but I'm willing to risk it if it makes you be careful when the Black Author is around." I looked at them each in turn. "Got that?"  
  
They all nodded.  
  
"There is one thing I'd like to ask you about, if it's okay." Sulu announced.  
  
"Fire away."  
  
He looked confused at my phrase, then nodded. "Right. Anyway, where did all those Greek Gods and Goddesses come from? And why are they all fighting for you?"  
  
"Oh, them? I needed something fast, and the last thing I studied in school today was ancient Greek mythology. They're powerful enough to stall him, but they are just characters in a story, so he has power over them. I believe that we'll never see any of those Greek Gods and Goddesses again."  
  
"Won't that affect the history where they're from?" Sulu asked.  
  
"It did, but I took them from a universe I had created a while ago for an original story, but the story didn't really work out. The place is in shambles now, without something to explain the unexplainable. Greece never existed, and Eastern world wiped most of itself out in petty wars, and then died completely to the Black Death. So there's another ego boost for you: I condemned trillions of people to death to save you. Show some gratitude, will ya?"  
  
The three nodded, and mumbled some thanks. Then Sulu spoke again.  
  
"Author..."  
  
"What is it now?" I asked, in a slightly sour mood, since mythology wasn't all that bad in Reading class, even though the Greek Gods and Goddesses deleted weren't from my dimension.  
  
"Why didn't you just take on the Black Author, and just end it there? Would that be easier?"  
  
I shrugged. "Yeah, it would be easier - if I could. But he's too powerful for any one Author alone, even one who's been published, or even the late great J.R.R. Tolkien. I know some people who believe that Tolkien died in a fight with TUBA, in fact. But me? No, I'd lose to TUBA. If all of us here on FF.Net combined together and joined our strength, we might stand a chance. But only a chance, and a small one at that. I may, however, be able to fight him to a standstill, or even throw him out of this story temporarily."   
  
"So... vhy didn't you do that?" Chekov rejoinded the conversation.  
  
"Because I'm not about to put MY neck on the line when the necks of a bunch of Greek Gods and Goddesses would serve the same purpose!" I said, thinking that this was obvious.  
  
The Starfleeters all looked at me skeptically.  
  
"What?!" Then it hit me. "Oh... yeah. The whole 'we're the good guys, we're selfless' thing. Well, I just don't go for that, okay? I mean, it's not logical. Why should I sacrifice myself for three idiots who are going off to try to rescue their friend from TUBA?"  
  
"Idiots?" The three voiced at the same time.  
  
"Yes, idiots. Because only an idiot would go try and gain entrance to TUBAs fortress!" I sighed, and began mumbling to myself about how with a wave of his hand, Tuba could anhilate them and their existence. Of course, I could do the same thing, but he also had powers over stories that weren't his own. He had actually only made a story to become what he is. In fact, nobody actually knew where he came from. The common belief was that he was a human who had learned how to traverse the dimensions and genre's to become an author over all, where ever he chose. Of course, it was highly doubtfull that he chose the name TUBA, so he obviously wasn't all-powerful.   
  
Yet there had been another theory that had cropped up recently, though most people believe it complete folly. Some believe that The Black Author was actually a muse, banished from the heavens for his decietfullness, corruptness, and his attempts to ruin the stories of other muses. But that was stupid, even stupider then what Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov had tried - because everyone knows that muses don't exist, and that the voices in our heads that tell us what to do are just elements of the insanity.   
  
But... as I had traveled with these people, I had had images of beings who gave me endless ideas for stories, of beings who didn't exist... but I had seen them clearly. Images of muses...  
  
Shaking my head violently to clear it, I called out for them to pack up so we could keep moving. I had formulated a plan where we might be able to get Spock out of there alive, but I would need help...  
  
I pulled out a palm pilot and connected to the Internet, bringing up AIM, Yahoo Messenger, and MSN Messenger. I had some people to contact.  
  
--  
  
Okay, pretty good chapter, right? Not much Kirk, but that's okay. While I was writing this, I struck upon an idea that I'm going to be testing out. I'm not letting you all in on the details yet, but I believe that you'll like it.   
  
So, here's how it goes down: You review, I make another chapter, and repeat for a little bit. Sounds good to me. 


	16. It's a Revelation!

Disclaimer: I'd really hoped we were past all this. *Guns cock* Fine. I don't own Star Trek, or the related characters. I do own myself, TUBA, and anything else you don't recognize, unless otherwise noted.  
  
A/N: Sorry for any Trek Historical Inaccuracies. I'm no history buff.  
  
-  
  
Chapter 16  
  
TUBA chuckled to himself in his lair. He knew that I was no match for him - definately more of a challenge then those Greeks, but the Greeks were inredibly high on the simplicity scale. Turning, a small smile still on his face, he looked at his captive, Spock. The smile grew, and he stared at Spock. The Vulcan held TUBA's gaze for an incredible amount of time, but then Spock turned away. The human half of him was ashamed at having been stared down. It didn't seem possible, he was a Vulcan - and yes, this was what the human half was thinking.  
  
The Black Author turned away and pulled something out of his cloak. Spock caught a glint of the object, it was a grail. TUBA placed it behind a sheet of heavy metal, and locked as securely as he could. If anyone but an author touched it, he would cease to of existed.   
  
Spock decided that he had waited enough; this man was clearly powerful, clearly at least a challenge for the Author, myself, and maybe his friends were all already dead. But he followed his thoughts through to conclusion, and the conclusion was that if his friends had been killed, he would probably know about it - The Black Author seemed like the type to brag and banter. But anyways, Spock decided that he had waited long enough and spoke.  
  
"Why are you keeping me here?" He questioned. "It is of no logical purpose." He added, hoping (an annoyingly human emotion) that the bluff would work. "My comrades do not care if I live or die." He faked consideration. "In fact, they may actually prefer my death."  
  
TUBA laughed aloud. "Please, Spock. Don't patronize me. I know exactly who you are. I know everything about you." Spock began to open his mouth to object that this was impossible, but TUBA cut him off. "Yes, Spock, everything. I know that when you were a young boy, 5.3 years old, on March 26th in the Old Earth calendar, you left for your mothers home planet of Earth at approximately 0400hrs. You found yourself preferring the quieter Vulcan, and returned to Vulcan on March 30th at approximately 2100hrs. You see, I know everything about you, Spock [Insert last name here]."  
  
For nearly the first time in his life, Spock was struck speechless.  
  
TUBA smiled. "I know everything about you, and I know everything you think. You can do nothing that I do not expect."   
  
Spock found his voice quickly. "You did not answer my question." He said plainly.   
  
"Ah, there it is. The inevitable sidestep. You find yourself unable to logically address this matter, so you change the subject, hoping to cover your surprise, that disgustingly human emotion." TUBA laughed his evil laugh.  
  
Spock frowned, and opened his mouth to say something, but then decided that it wasn't logical to anger TUBA, and closed it - something surprisingly unSpock-ish.  
  
"What?" TUBA asked. "What is it?"  
  
"I said nothing."  
  
"It's my laugh, isn't it?" The Black Author scowled.  
  
Spock said nothing.  
  
"Gah!" He shouted. "What's wrong with it?!"  
  
"I believe that the human term is that it is... wimpish." Spock said uncertainly.   
  
Murder flared in TUBAs eyes, and he looked ready to smite Spock then and there. But he held himself back, and the light left his eyes. "No. If I kill him now, there will be nothing to draw the Author to me. No. I will hold back." The light flared up again. "But I may forget my objectives, and then you will die in a most excruciatingly painful manner. Understand?"  
  
"I fear neither pain nor death." Spock answered easily. "And I do note that you have failed to answer my question."  
  
The Black Author lifted his eyebrow. "Oh, did I?" It may have been the lighting, but it appeared to Spock that his eye caught a glint that made him appear more sinister. "Then you are not as sharp as I thought you were."  
  
"My friend, you are bait."  
  
--  
  
A short chapter, but it was important to plot development and character development. And a heads up, Star Trekking for the Holy Grail may be over soon. I'll be starting work on the next chapter either tonight or tomorrow, too, so you'll probably have another chapter before the 24th, possibly two. But don't keep your hopes up for two. 


	17. Quite the Predicament indeed

A/N: Whoa, finished two chapters today and already starting another one... Aren't you all lucky? No, actually, I just wanna get one with the plans I've set up. That's all.  
  
--  
  
Chapter 17  
  
I rejoined the group in their camp with a triumphant grin. My palm pilot disappeared with a flash, and I saw the most comfortably seat around the fire that had been set up (By Jones, of all people) and made for it. I normally would have cautioned them of the dangers of lighting a fire in a forest of enemies, but there was only one enemy, and if he wanted to come get us, he'd come. But I suspected that he wouldn't do that, because all of the Star Trek characters there would help defend me, and he'd wipe them off of existance. This, in turn, would lead all of the Star Trek authors to rise up against him, and there are some pretty powerful authors among us, so that could prove a challenge for him after taking care of all of us at once, and after being taken by surprise by the Greeks earlier that day.  
  
No, I had declared to all that we were safe for a while, since the Greek Gods had weekened him.  
  
As I made for the chair, Kirk sat down in it with some marshmallows, graham crackers, and milk chocolate bars. I lifted my eyebrow as I drew near, and stood expectantly beside him when I reached the chair. Kirk skewered a mashmallow with a metal poker, set up some chocolate and graham crackers, and proceeded to skillfully roast the marshmallow. I cleared my throat softly, and he glanced at me.  
  
"Oh, hey, Author. Pull up a seat, roast some marshmallows. There's enough for all." He then resumed his roasting, turning the 'shmallow till it was perfectly roasted, a nice golden-brown. He placed it on the his chocolate and half a graham cracker, then scraped the gooey marshmallow off with the other half graham cracker. Then he placed the second half on top, and had a nice, delicious looking s'more. "Mmm..." He looked at me again. "Don't like marshmallows? Okay. But do you really have to stand there like that?"  
  
"You're in my seat." I announced evenly.  
  
"I'm in your seat - what?" Kirk shook his head. "I've been sitting here all night, while you were off in the woods playing with that ancient gadget of yours."  
  
I scowled. "For your information, this 'ancient gadget of mine' is one of the most advanced pieces of equipment open to the public in my age. And besides, do your PADDs have AIM? No? I didn't think so." I let a triumphant smirk crawl onto my face. "Now, out of my seat. Or do we have to get in a discussion about who has higher rank again?"  
  
Kirk considered this. "I'd prefer that we didn't." He stood up and pulled another chair over, finishing his s'more. Jones was on the other end of the fire, shoving the marshmallow far into the fire.   
  
"Ladd, I think that you're putting your marsh'allow a wee bit too far into the fire." Scotty advised.  
  
Jones scoffed. "I've been going camping since I was a kid, sir. I know how to roast a marshmallow."   
  
"Then why is it on fire?" Sulu asked innocently.  
  
"It's not on fire - " Jones looked in; sure enough, the marshmallow was on fire. He pulled it out and began blowing on it, then waving it frantically. "AHHH! FIRE! FIRE! HELP! FIRE!"   
  
The marshmallow flew off the poker, and sailed through the air. Chekov made a vain grab for it, and it sailed into the woods, very likely to start a large forest fire that could have conveniently weakened TUBA even further.  
  
Or, at least, that's what would have happened if there weren't a bright flash of light that delivered a teenage girl, who grabbed the marshmallow quickly, swore becaue it was on fire, dropped it, and smashed it to blackened bits.   
  
"Don't ever say I'm not a humanitarian. I mean, look at this wonderful meal I've delivered for thousands of ants." She glanced at her hand. "Oh, and this wonderful mess I've made on my hand." She seemed to consider wiping her hand on her legs, but decided that that would make an even bigger mess. She looked around, found a leaf, and, 30 seconds later, had a crushed leaf stuck to her hand. "Quite the predicament I've gotten myself into. Oh!" She noticed us for the first time. I came over.   
  
"You're late." I declared.  
  
"Flashy entrance and all, y'know, the usual." She shrugged helplessly, then resumed looking for some water to clean her hand with.   
  
"You forgot." I translated.  
  
"Yep."  
  
I blinked. "I just talked to you 20 minutes ago. How could you forget?"  
  
"Surprisingly easily. Now c'mon, have you got any water or anything here? My hand is a mess. Maybe I could... spoon it off... or something..." She trailed off, looking around for Spock, who would know exactly what everyone had.  
  
"Well, I hate to disappoint you, but..." My voice took on a creepy tone. "There is no spoon..."  
  
"There's no Spock, either. Where'd he go?" She looked around, bewildered.   
  
"The Black Author has him."  
  
She gasped. "No!"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"When? How? Why?!"  
  
"When: About 12 hours ago. How: Hit him with a whack-bonk. Jones saw the whole thing, but TUBA made him unable to talk. He knew the sort of responce he'd get if he killed Jones. And as for why: How the hell should I know?" I scowled.  
  
She shrugged innocently. "Well, it IS your story."  
  
"And this IS the Black Author." I countered. "He doesn't follow our rules, or scripts. You know that, as well as anyone else."  
  
"Ahem." Kirk interrupted. "Hello, we're still here, you know."  
  
"No you aren't." She said. "The Matrix has you, Jim. Free your mind..."  
  
"What is she talking about?" Kirk demanded. "Who IS she?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. My bad. Everyone, meet Empress Leia - "  
  
"Emp for short." She cut in.  
  
"Right... You've all starred in some of her stories." I looked at Kirk. "You most recently."  
  
"Yeah... didn't I steal your muses?" Kirk recalled.  
  
"Yes, jerk." She said it accusingly.  
  
"You made me!" He defended, against absolutely nothing.  
  
"But they're my muses!" She wailed.  
  
I rolled my eyes skyward. "Muses don't exist. They're just myths, and that's it. What you have are voices in your head."   
  
"So do you!"   
  
"Most people do. 'Cept ours tell us to write stuff, most people are told to burn things." I considered. "That's a big difference. Of course, burning stuff is still awesome."  
  
"True dat, true dat."  
  
"Okay, fine, what's she here for?" McCoy asked, unusually taking the role of peace-keeper and helping people stay on topic.  
  
"She's here to help me stall TUBA."  
  
"Stall him for what? Don't you want him dead?" Sulu asked.  
  
"Stall him while you rescue Spock. I wish we could kill him, but that just isn't going to happen, unless he was more weakened then I thought by the fight with the Greek gods. If Heracles got some good hits on him, he should be laying low for awhile, but, as Emp pointed out earlier, this is MY story, so I know where he is." I smiled. "Get a good rest tonight, because tomorrow, we're attacking."  
  
--  
  
A/N: There we go. Some nice humor, along with plot progression. I'm getting good at this. But, clearly, I'm setting things up for end-game. I'm aiming for 20 chapters 


	18. End game

A/N: Okay, endgame. Yes, the grail that was seen by Spock a few chapters ago was the Holy Grail. Yes, that was a quick-fix. You know, it kind of feels weird ending this... This is by far the most successful of all my fics, and this is the only fic I've ever finished. Even though it's not done yet, a finish is almost guarunteed. I may even have it up before next Friday. It's actually kind of depressing... *Goes off to listen to In The End by The Doors*  
  
--  
  
Chapter 18  
  
I finished laying down my plan to the gathered Starfleeters and Emp. Matrix references had abounded throughout, as well as some Star Wars jokes, some Pirates of the Caribbean quips, and quite a bit more. Of course, the Starfleet crew had had no idea whatsoever about what was going on, but Emp and I didn't really care. We were just trying to get in our last laughs before the big show. We knew that we were risking our lives to save Spock, and that if we failed, The Black Author would very likely kill the entire crew, and then proceed to kill each Author on FanFiction.Net one at a time. We knew that we must not fail.  
  
"Remember, The Black Author is not an idiot, though he may at times act like it. He will have defences in his lair to help defend himself in case the characters in the story he's in rise up. It's likely that there will be Klingon's and Romulan's there, and possible, but unlikely, that there will be some Borg." I pulled out a case of weapons and opened it. It contained phasers of all sorts, as well as a few grenades. "Use these. I want everyone to have a rifle and a pistol. Sulu and Chekov should probably keep the grenades."  
  
Jones spoke up for the first time in a while; apparently, the thought of attacking TUBAs lair didn't set well with him. "I can handle the grenades-"  
  
"NO!" Everyone said at the same time.  
  
Jones winced. "Just a thought-"  
  
"NO!" Everyone repeated. I mean, would YOU trust Jones with a grenade?  
  
I continued. "Once you're inside, don't stop for anything except the Black Author himself. If you see him, it means that Emp and I are both dead. He will be extremely weakened if that's the case, so you should all fire at him, throw grenades at him - do everything to keep him away. Once you have Spock contact me with your communicators and tell me so, then get out of here with this." I tossed a strange device to Kirk. Emp's eyes widened at the sight of it.  
  
"Ah... what's this?" He asked, eyeing it suspiciously.  
  
"It'll open a portal to your home dimension. TUBA shouldn't have any power there, since it isn't inside a story. You should be safe." I pointed to a button. "Press that to open the portal, and press it again to close it. If the Black Author attacks you, get him with your phasers and use it to leave, even if you don't have Spock. If we're dead, and you're gone, he'll have no reason to stay here. He'll probably leave, and once you hear reports of him acting somewhere else, return here to get Spock. I'm sure he'll understand why you left him behind."  
  
They all nodded solemnly. I looked Kirk straight in the eye. "And whatever you do, don't let Jones die."  
  
"Why not? I mean, I don't want him to die, but I don't want anyone else to die, either. So why him in particular?" Kirk questioned.  
  
"Because he's on loan to me, and I promised to return him in pristine condition. So naturally, I can't let him die, but if I'm engaged in a battle with The Black Author, I can't exactly look over him, can I?"  
  
"Hm, interesting concept." Kirk said, looking thoughtful. "I'll watch him. Jones, don't get yourself killed."  
  
"Right. Okay, let's go. It's daylight, and we need to move while TUBA has as little power as possible."  
  
I raised my arms, and with a flash and a puff of smoke, we were all off to rescue Spock.  
  
--  
  
We appeared outside The Black Author's lair immediatly. I pointed a hand at the door of the lair, and it burst open in flames. Two Romulan's in guard towers flew from the towers in large explosions as I pointed at them.  
  
"Okay, move. We'll keep causing havok here to draw TUBA out while you get Spock. And Kirk..." I grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to look me in the eye. "Good luck."  
  
"You, too." Kirk pulled free of my grip, and ran at the head of his small force, phaser pistol in his belt and holding the rifle in a classic military postion. A Romulan appeared in the doorway, and was blasted away by the phaser rifle. He opened his mouth, let out a fierce war cry, and disappeared inside the lair. McCoy, Chekov, Sulu, Scotty, and Jones followed. None of them looked back.  
  
I turned away from the heroic sight to resume my destruction of TUBAs fortress. I pointed again and again, blowing up bits of the Lair. Smoke floated through the air, and stones rained down. I began shouting.  
  
"Come on out! Are you afraid of me, TUBA?! Are you afraid!?!" I pointed both of my arms at the fortress, and two streams of lightning sprang from my fingertips into the rock, melting some bits and blowing up others. I stopped the lightning, stared around.Where was he? Normally he'd of been there by now - he hated having his lair attacked, and hated even worse being taunted.   
  
Then it came - that booming, wimpish evil laugh that was his signature. There was a swirl of black smoke in front of Emp and I, and he appeared, head tossed back in his laughter. His laughter died off, but his grin remained.   
  
"Afraid of you? My dear Author, it'd take much more then the likes of you to make me afraid. Am I not The Ultimate Bane of Authors?" He laughed again. "No, if anything, I do not consider you worth my time, unless it is as entertainment. I will watch you two die, and I will enjoy it." His smirk broadened, and he snapped his fingers.   
  
Two beasts appeared, standing on their hind legs. Their eyes were red, and their bodies were encased in flames. Their image brought to mind a picture of a miniaturized Balrog. My eyes narrowed at their appearance. Emp gasped lightly, barely audible unless standing right next to her, as I was. We were in trouble. The Black Author had a pair of Flamers in his possession, and he was planning to force us to fight them.  
  
--  
  
Kirk ran through the fortress, shooting Romulans and Klingons as he ran. He never missed. He was on a vendetta to save his friends life. Rounding a corner, Kirk triggered two blasts at a pair of unlucky Romulans. They evaporated as the rest of his mini strike force rounded the corner after him. They had not needed to fire a shot yet. Kirk rounded another corner, and came screeching to a halt. There was a doorway that had no apparent door, and on the other side of the passage he saw Spock. He was in a cell surrounded by a large number of robots that looked... familiar... somehow...  
  
Nevermind that. If they were trying to keep Spock away from him, and tried to stop him, they'd meet the same fate as everyone else. Kirk walked into the room with slow, measured steps. The crew followed behind him cautiously. Sulu and Chekov performed rear guard, walking backwards slowly towards Kirk, scanning behind them for any enemies. Scotty, Bones, and Jones completed the crew following Kirk,. walking towards him facing his back.   
  
When they were all inside the the room, something happened. They suddenly became surrounded by about a hundred of the strangely familiar robots. Kirk swore, and spun around, looking for a way out of the trap. There was none. Then the memory came back to him.   
  
"Stella!" He shouted. And if these Stella robots were here, then that meant... "Harry!" Kirk bellowed.  
  
"Yes, Jimmy, my old friend?" Harry Mudd responded, coming out from between two of the robots. "Do you like them? Oh, and drop the weapons. You'll all die if you try anything."  
  
Kirk looked left and right at the robots, then dropped his phaser rifle. Harry's eyes followed the rifle, and then crossed to look at the phaser pistol suddenly, inexplicably pointing at his head.   
  
"You die first." Kirk said. "Your robots will get us in a rush, but you die first, Harry."  
  
A Stella robot spoke up from behind Harry. "He is bluffing."  
  
Harry had started trembling. He shook his head marginally. "He's not bluffing."  
  
Kirk smiled slowly, softly. "That's right, I'm not bluffing. Now call off your pet robots before your head is a part of that wall." As he spoke, his eyes hardened.  
  
Harry nodded, and said a passcode. The robots all fell over, a few sparks flying. Kirk shoved Harry at McCoy and Scotty and moved to Spock. He glanced at the bars holding Spock in, and then at the lock. Kirk looked up at Spock and nodded. Spock turned his head away from the lock and covered his face.  
  
The bars melted in a flash, and Spock stepped out. However, as soon as he did so, klaxon's blared and lights flashed. Dozens of Klingons and Romulans came running, all holding disruptors and disruptor rifles. They had heavy combat armor on, and, judging by the way they just started shooting, were inclined to taking any prisoners.  
  
But that was okay. Kirk wouldn't have it any other way.  
  
He triggered off multple rounds at them, kill a few Romulans, and then dove behind an over-turned table. the rest of his crew did likewise, and Kirk was both grateful and worried by the fact that there was only one entrance, and thusly only one exit.  
  
"Chekov!" He shouted. "Two grenades at the doorway!"  
  
"Aye, Captain!" Chekov shouted back, and lay his rifle on the ground. In skilled motions, he pulled out two grenades and, with one move, pulled the pins out. He then tossed them over at the entrance. "Everybody get down!" He shouted.  
  
In responce to his order, the Starfleet crew ducked their heads down just as the grenades went off. Multiple Klingons and Romulans screamed in pain as they were caught in the blast, and instantly killed. Immediatly after the blast, the crew popped back up over the tables and began firing at the suddenly disorganized Klingons and Romulans. In a manner of minutes, a group of over 60 hostiles was taken down to 20, and those twenty were mostly wounded or unconscious.   
  
"Move!" Kirk shouted. He lept over his table while his crew did the same. Chekov tossed an extra rifle he had been carrying to Spock. Spock caught it by the handle and kept moving with Kirk and their crew.   
  
Soon, the conscious and able-bodied of the Romulans and Klingons, about 15 in total, followed Kirk and his group out of the room, leaving only a stunned, terrified, and exhilerated Harry Mudd behind.  
  
"Is it over...?" He asked. In the absense of a reply, he assumed that it was yes. "Am I still alive?" Again, in the absense of a responce, he assumed that the answer was yes. "I'm alive!" He shouted, and did a little jig. If you had seen him, you probably would have shot him, but you didn't see him. Lucky you.   
  
He abruptly stopped his jig when Kirk and Co came rushing back into the room. "Where was it, Spock?"  
  
And Spock pointed at the wall. "Right there, behind the wall."  
  
Kirk set his phaser to a moderate level, and blasted the wall away, revealing a shining golden cup that had been the source of all of his more recent troubles - the Holy Grail.  
  
--  
  
Emp got a predatorial grin on her face as the two Flamers moved in on us. I glanced at her, and she glanced briefly at me.  
  
"You take care of him. I can handle these clowns." She said, the predatorial grin growing ever so slightly.  
  
I lifted my eyebrow, but said nothing. Instead, I unleashed a wave of fire at The Black Author. He raised a hand, deflecting it all neatly to the side as I charged up at him from the side, pulling a sword hilt that had no blade from my belt. I leapt up at TUBA, and the blade appeared on the handle as a group of blazing white energy. I stabbed the weapon at the Bane, but he was fast - incredibly fast. In a blur of movement, he ducked beneath the jab and landed on the ground. Turning around, he threw a large ball of pure black energy at me. I twisted around and was barely able to ricochet the blast off of my sword before it nailed me. Despite blocking the attack, I was thrown to the ground and skidded a few feet before I could stand up.  
  
When I did stand up, I charged him again, my sword in one hand, lightning-mingled fire blazing from the other. TUBA was able to push most of the lightningish fire away, but was unable to dodge the downward slash from my sword. The blade left a gash down his chest which almost instantly healed itself, but I knew that it took energy from him. His eyes blazed with a murderous wrath as he stared at me, but I didn't wait for him to make a move before attacking again. I thrust the blade at his stomach, but he jumped backwards away from the deadly weapon.  
  
He then said some words in a booming language that I failed to understand, and a large sword composed entirely of a purple-tinted black energy appeared in front of him. He grabbed the sword by it's hilt and charged.   
  
The first flash I lept to the side of, and the second I deflected to the ground. The third grazed my shoulder, and blasted me many yards away. I stood up shakily, and held my blade in a low guard, perfect for quick jabs or blocks. We charged eachother, and clashed in a series of hard swings, slow slashes, short jabs, parries, and quick cuts.  
  
Emp was faring much better then I was. She lept over the two Flamers when they spouted flames at her from their mouths, and blasted one away into a nearby tree with a heavy gush of wind. It growled and struggled to get up while she duked it out with the remaining Flamer.   
  
It slashed at her face with it's claws, but she bent backwards to avoid the attack. As she stood upright again, she got hit across the face by the creatures firey, whip-like tail. It left a deep, burned gash in her forehead. She gasped with the pain, but didn't stop moving as she jumped aside at the last second to dodge a firery blast from the powerful creature.   
  
Throughout the while, her predatorial grin never faded.  
  
There came a loud growl from behind her, and she glanced. The other Flamer had gained its footing again, and now she was surrounded. They both brought their heads back and belched out a long, unended torrent of flame at her. She smirked, and made gestures with her hands. Heavy gusts of wind picked up, curving the fires up into a single stream, and then directing them back at The Black Author. The gusts of wind and fire struck him as he was throwing another ball of black energy. He went tumbling into the ground, and the energy ball went haywire and struck one of the Flamers. The Flamer yelped, and disintegrated quickly. One down.  
  
Emp then focused her attention on the remaining Flamer. This was the one that had been unharmed. She knew that the fire it was shooting at her, and that she was redirecting with the winds, would do nothing to it. So, she let go of the fire with the wind, but then pointed both hands at the Flamer. Two powerful streams of water exploded from her palms, and collided with the fire. At first, neither gained ground from the point they collided at, where fire and water meant, and both became steam. But then the water started, slowly but surely, creeping up on the Flamer. It wimpered, and then the water washed over it, extinguishing its fires, inside and out. The water battered the Flamer physically, and then Emp let up on the water. She walked over to it, and looked at it. It was struggling to breath. The Flamer looked up at Emp, the enemy who had vanquished it, and tried to slash at her with its claws, but in the absense of its fires to give it strength, it could barely lift its paw. Emp looked at the ground, let loose a small fountain of water that almost instantly turned to a sharp icicle, and put the poor beast out of its misery.   
  
Then Emp turned towards where TUBA and I were battling, murder in her eyes. She formed another icicle and came towards us.   
  
TUBA punched me in the face, sending me skidding a few feet and then walked over to stand above me. "I'll enjoy this more then I have ever enjoyed anything..." He said. "You shamed me, Wedge. And now you will die." He lifted his blade, and I caught a sight of Emp approaching from behind him. I knew I had to stall him.  
  
"How?" I asked. "How did I shame you?"  
  
"I was the Romulan Red-Shirt you interrupted so long ago. The one you swallowed with a crack in the ground, just so you could progress the plot." He laughed. "A plot, of all things!" He then grew serious again. "But no more stalling. I will kill you, now!" He began to swing to blade down, but then stopped when an icicle was stabbed through his shoulder. His eyes widened as the icicle melted to water, and then I blasted him away with a large, powerful blast of fire and electricity. TUBA went flying through the air, but landed on his feet.   
  
I picked up my blade as Emp formed another Icicle, and togethor Emp and I stood opposite The Black Author. We stared at eachother, and then entered into the most dangerous battle any of us had faced thus far in our lives. I could only hope that Kirk had gotten Spock, and gotten out by then. 


	19. Climaxic Actionness and Huge Surprises

Disclaimer: One last time, for nostalgic purposes: I don't own Star Trek or the characters involved, nor do I own Emp. Empress Leia owns Emp. I own me, The Black Author, Boomy, the Flamers, and I'm sure there's something else.  
  
A/N: I have nothing really to say here... But let's just say you'll all be very anrgy with me by the end of this chapter... And sorry for the shortness.  
  
--  
  
Chapter 19  
  
Emp and I charged The Black Author. I stabbed the sword at TUBA, while Emp slashed in a criss-cross patern with her icicles. TUBA blocked the icicles with his sword, and then twisted his body in a way I didn't believe possible to avoid the sword. He slammed a fist onto my sword-arm, making me drop the blade. He tried to throw another punch into my face, but I caught his hand and jumped backwards, pulling him forward with me. Emp's icicles slid off of his blade, one making a small scratch on his shoulder.  
  
TUBA swore at us, and delivered a solid roundhouse kick to the side of my head. I flipped over and landed face-first in the dirt. He tried to land another hit on me, but Emp picked him up with a strong gust of wind and slammed him on the ground. I rolled away from him as he flipped up to his feet, and stood up. Behind him I saw my sword, and next to him Emp stood, gripping one icicle with both of her hands.   
  
In a blurr of motion, I rolled between TUBAs legs, and stood up behind him as he twirled around. I launched a quick three-punch into his face, then ducked the return swing of his sword. As it passed overhead, I stood back up and grabbed his wrist with both of my hands, and twisted. There was a satisfying crunch, and he dropped his blade. Of course, he almost immediatly healed the wound, but now we were evenly armed. He tried another roundhouse kick, but I ducked again, and then landed a heavy left hook in his face. He staggered back a few steps, and I smashed a spin-kick into his stomach, making him double over my leg. Emp leaped up behind him and slammed her remaining icicle into his back.  
  
The Black Author hissed in pain, and stood up quickly. He smashed Emp in her face, breaking a vein in her nose. She collided with a tree, and struggled to her feet, streaming blood from her nose and murder flaring in her eyes. Ice crystals formed randomly around her, and strong gusts of wind blew through the air. I snatched up my blade, a whirled to face TUBA. TUBA smirked at me, and bent over slowly, deliberately, to pick up his sword. I lept at him, trying to stab my sword down into his head. If I got him here, it would end it all - The Black Author could heal a wound to any muscle, any organ, except for the brain. It would instantly kill him.   
  
But the Bane swung his blade up at me, and in that split second everything was crystal clear - my error became obvious. TUBA had tried to lure me into an attack, and he had succeeded. I tried to veer away from the blade, but it was too late. The sword swung through my arm, and a fierce fire burned throughout my entire body as the wound was instantly cauterized. The sword of darkness blasted me away, and I smashed my head into a tree. I instantly fell unconscious, and I now know what happened next only through what Emp has said to me.  
  
Emp pointed her arms at TUBA and unleashed a flurry of icicles flying at him. He twirled his sword in a rapid circle that deflected most of the icicles, but then one slipped through his defense, slamming into his thigh. It evaporated, but it left him open to another icicle, which in turn opened him to two more. He was soon a pincushion of icicles, though the wounds healed immediatly, directly after the icicles evaporated.  
  
The icicles kept coming, and more continued getting through his defense. Thinking fast, the Bane threw his blade at Emp, and then immediatly charged up another ball of pure black energy. The icicles slammed into the energy ball and dissipated, unable to penetrate the defense. Seeing this, Emp called on a gust of wind to pick her up, and blow her over to the other side of the Bane. She then formed two icicles in her hands, and charged TUBA. He spun rapidly, and threw his energy ball at her, but she was prepared. She slashed the icicles through the energy, and it shredded into trails, passing her without incident. The icicles dissipated, but she formed new ones, and attacked.   
  
This the Bane had not planned for. He was unarmed, and if he tried to run for his blade she would be able to attack him in one of his vital areas, which would take a lot of energy to heal, or perhaps kill him. Emp slashed at him with both of her weapons from above, and he caught her wrists. Before he could squeeze, however, Emp flipped around, both breaking his grip and smashing her feet into his neck. She landed on the ground at the same time he did, but he was many feet away. Emp stood up, both icicles in hand, and slammed both of the icicles through TUBAs shoulders and into the ground, making them cold enough so that they didn't melt, pinning him there.   
  
"I'll kill you for what you have done, Bane." Emp whispered fiercly at him.   
  
Somehow, the Black Author managed a grim smirk. "I'd like to see you kill from beyond the grave." And then, in an amazing display of strength and will power, TUBA stood up, tearing and healing his shoulders in the process. It took a lot of his energy, but he was up. Emp stood amazed, and was smashed horribly by the torrents of dark energy the Bane shot at her. She flew through the woods, smashing through trees and animals alike.   
  
The Bane picked up his sword of dark energy and started to move towards me, but was suddenly thrown backwards by a large explosion. He stood up, and shook his head to clear it.   
  
  
  
"What's the matter, Bane? Can't stand to a little boom-boom?" A voice said as I regained consciousness. I frowned. The voice came from a man I didn't recognize, but the voice was very familiar. It boomed throughout the clearing, echoing.  
  
"No way!" I said. "Boomy?!"  
  
"The one and only." The man replied. As I looked more closely at him, I noticed something about him: He was made entirely out of light.  
  
"But... you're just a disembodied voice. Aren't you?" My frown deepened.  
  
"Correction: I was just a disembodied voice. My body has been freed from its prison." Boomy replied. There was something about his body that seemed familiar to me...  
  
"NO!" TUBA shouted at Boomy. "NO! I locked you away! You were powerless! You couldn't escape!!"  
  
"What...?" I asked. I looked at Boomy again. "What are you?"  
  
"I am the Guardian designated for Protection of the Holy Grail." He paused. "My powers are linked to the Holy Grail, and when the Bane gained possession of it, he locked my body away."  
  
I rocked back on my heels, and then noticed Emp limping back into the clearing in front of the lair from the devastion that was her path through the forest. I then turned and saw Kirk and his group coming out of the fortress, Spock right next to him.   
  
The Black Author's eyes were bloodshot, and he screamed in a the way an animal might. "YOU!" He shouted, looking at Spock. His fingers hooked into talons. "YOU saw me hide it, and showed them where the Grail was! I'll KILL you!" The Starfleeters all lifted their phasers and pointed them at The Bane, but the Phasers all disappeared. The Black Author waved his hand and everyone except for Boomy and Spock was thrown into the fortress wall.   
  
Spock began backing away, seeing the illogic in trying to face him. Boomy began to move to stop him.  
  
TUBA reached Spock and smashed him in the face. Spock continued backed away, blood spewing from his face. Then the blade of dark energy formed in The Bane's hand, and, before Spock could move, plunged it into Spock's neck. Spock let out a small gasp of air, and died.  
  
Everyone froze. Boomy's eyes widened.   
  
And then something incredible happened. Kirk screamed primordially, and launched himself onto The Bane. He beat the plague that was The Black Author down to the ground with his fists and feet, beating him severely, within an inch of his life. But then The Bane fought back and smashed Kirk away, but Kirk came back, determined to get the blood of Writers Block for killing his best friend.   
  
But now the Bane wasn't surprised by to ferocity of the attack, and blocked the blows. He picked Kirk up and threw him away, snarling. But he knew that he could not beat all of us now, not after the battle with Emp and I. With one last snarl, The Bane opened a portal and left Star Trekking for the Holy Grail forever.  
  
Kirk was glowing with a strange light, and Boomy, Emp, and I looked at him. I recognized the light from the visions I had been recieving. Emp believed in them, and Boomy... well, Boomy was anybodies guess.  
  
But Boomy was the one who said it first.   
  
"Kirk... you're... a MUSE!" 


	20. Resolution

Disclaimer: In the end... my only friend, the end... Huh? Oh, yeah. I don't own Star Trek or related stuff. Tavia owns Jones. I don't own The End. I own TUBA, who's not in this particular story anymore, and I also own myself. Emp owns Emp. Uh... I own Boomy. Emp owns... nothing else. Tavia owns... nothing else. Paramount owns a hell of a lot. The Doors own just as much. Am I missing anything?  
  
A/N: The real end. To Star Trekking for the Holy Grail. That's all that this ends; in the larger sense, this is only the beginning... And enough cryptic warnings; I'll tell you nice people what I mean at the end of the chapter. This is coming out so late because I've been waiting for a responce from you about killing Spock. So far it's been kind of disappointing, but I'll move on anyways.  
  
--  
  
"I'm a what?" Kirk asked, understandably confused. Then he noticed the glowing around him, and looks of awe Emp and I were giving him. Not because he was Jim Kirk, of course, but because he was a muse.  
  
My eyes were extremely wide, and when I looked away, I was cursing myself. "All this time... Underneath my nose... All this time..." I mumbled to myself, in a state of shock.  
  
Around that time, Emp realized what had just happened. "Did TUBA just kill...?"  
  
"Yes." I said, nodding.   
  
Her eyes widened. "That bastard!" Then she thought more. "Hey! Did Kirk just beat up...?"  
  
"Yes." I said again, still nodding.   
  
Her eyes widened more. "But then that means that he's...?"  
  
I continued nodding.  
  
If I had thought her eyes couldn't get any wider, I was wrong. They could, and they did. Much wider. I noted with amused interest her bulging eyes as she threw herself at Kirk's feet, shouting. "PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! I SWEAR, I'LL NEVER HURT YOU OR ANY REDSHIRTS OR MCCOY OR SPOCK OR SULU OR CHEKOV OR PICARD... well, maybe Picard, but I'M SERIOUS ABOUT ALL THE OTHER STUFF! JUST DON'T KILL ME!"  
  
Kirk, now understandably frightened, backed away, not even trying to play it smooth. I mean, if I had had her do that to me I'd be really freaking scared, too. Who wouldn't? Anyways, to the story.  
  
"Uh... what are you talking about? What does it mean that I'm a muse? What IS a muse?!" He looked at Boomy, Emp, and me each in turn, very frightened about the state of glowingness, and the begging of Emp.  
  
"A muse is the most powerful being in the entire Dimension of the Authors." I said, neither my voice nor my face betraying any emotion.  
  
"They also have Godly powers in every dimension, save perhaps our home Dimension." Emp chimed in. "The dimension where all authors are born."  
  
Boomy looked at Kirk. "They are more powerful than even the Guardians, such as myself. I am the most powerful of the Guardians; their leader. I could fight a muse and live..." He sighed. "And then I lost to The Bane. He didn't get the jump on me; I was meditating, and he walked up to me. We battled for days that seemed to stretch into months; perhaps they did. But he had the upperhand throughout the battle. It was simply a matter of depriving me of all my energy, so that I could not fight back as he sealed my body away."  
  
He looked Kirk in the eye. "I recognize the muse inside of you... but I do not know how. A Muse... cannot be a character. It does not seem possible."  
  
"It is possible, though." I said. "Obviously. And it makes perfect sense."  
  
"What?" Everyone asked at once. Except Emp, who realize what I was saying.   
  
"How do you explain how he always bluffed, and lived? Beat death so much? Won over the ladies so much?"   
  
"Hey!" Kirk said, cutting me off. "That last bit was pure wit and charm."  
  
"Fine; but how come every time you died, you came back?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"I always assumed that it was become of some convoluted logic that makes it seem possible." Kirk shrugged.  
  
"No, James Tiberious Kirk. It's because in this dimension, you are not a human. You are a muse, with a human body. It is because, in this dimension, you are immortal."  
  
--  
  
Many hours later, onboard the Enterprise, I stood with Kirk, Boomy, and Emp in the rec room. I was looking around online, feeling glum due to the death of Spock. Emp was at a computer nearby, doing the same thing. With a sigh, I shut down my terminal and spun around to face Boomy and Kirk.  
  
"So now what?" I asked.  
  
"Kirk wants to go after The Bane." Boomy said. "But I've told him that it was impossible; even though he is a muse, he is also a character, so therefore he cannot leave this place."  
  
"What about a crossover?" I asked. "Characters can leave their own dimensions then."  
  
"Yes, but he will not be nearly as powerful in a crossover. But that's besides the point. He cannot be allowed to leave."  
  
"Why not?" I lifted an eyebrow. I had a feeling that I knew where this was going.  
  
"Because if he did, it would collapse the entire Star Trek world. It would be taking away the central character of this dimension before his time to leave. People, planets - entire civilizations would cease to exist. All because he left. It'd be impossible to predict what would happen. This dimension could even fall into a relapse; if Spock didn't live to be killed by the Black Author, then Kirk would have no reason to chase him, and thus it would be back to normal. But then if things were back to normal, Spock WOULD live to be killed by the Bane, and Kirk WOULD have reason to chase after him, and thusly the dimension would die again. But then Spock wouldn't live to be killed, and Kirk wouldn't be out chasing The Bane, and so on and so forth." Boomy sighed. "You see, Kirk, you can't leave here."  
  
"I don't care if it causes relapses in the dimension; I have to try and get him for what he's done!" Kirk argued.   
  
Boomy looked at me, exasperated. "You convince him that we have to let The Bane go."  
  
I nodded slowly, looking Boomy in the eye, and then Kirk. Finally, after a long silence, I spoke. "I agree with you, Jim." I astonished myself by using Kirk's first name, and astonished Kirk and Boomy with my agreement. "But Boomy is right, you can't be the one to go after The Black Author."  
  
"Thank you!" Boomy said.  
  
"I'm not finished!" I thundered, my temper not-so-good at the moment. "You can't go after The Bane, Jim - But I can. And I need your help to do it."  
  
Boomy was flustered. "You can't do that!" He shouted, extremely angry.   
  
I fixed him with a fierce stare. "I can and I will."  
  
  
  
"Stop it, both of you!" Kirk shouted. He looked at me. "You will go after The Black Author for me?" He questioned.  
  
I nodded.   
  
"What do you need?" He asked.  
  
"Your power." I said simply.  
  
He began to ask what I meant, but then realized it. "You want me to surrender my muse powers to you." He asked.  
  
I nodded again.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"WHAT?!" Boomy exploded. "NO! I will NOT allow this!"  
  
"I don't care what you would allow!" Kirk roared, small flashes of lightning crackling around him. I sat up. "You are a mere Guardian of a holy relic! I am a muse!" He seemed to grow, his eyes aflame.  
  
"Jim, calm down..." I cautioned.  
  
"NO! I will NOT calm down while he continues trying to let The Black Author go free! THAT is what cannot be allowed!"  
  
Boomy stepped back. "I didn't mean it like that, Kirk! Wedge cannot go after the Bane because even with your powers he would be killed!"  
  
"What?" I asked. "But Kirk is a Muse. He has ultimate power-"  
  
"No, he doesn't." Boomy said. "Because The Black Author is a Muse, also."  
  
Emp and I gasped.  
  
"Or rather, he was. He continuously attacked other muses, and sometimes would give Authors terrible ideas just for fun. All of the Muses voted, and kicked him out. They stripped him of most of his powers." Boomy took a breath before continuing. "I believe that he merged with one of the darker Authors, and they togethor became more powerful then any one Muse. They then became known as The Ultimate Bane of Authors, or as they preferred, The Bane. Eventually, the half that was The Black Author regained all of his Muse powers." He paused. "The ancient Muses worked hard to defeat him, but failed. The Bane then forced all of those who fought him to join in his power. That is why he is so powerful. Since then a few Muses escaped and have gone into hiding, hoping some day they would be able to fight The Bane and win."  
  
Boomy looked at me. "If you are to challenge the Black Author, then you must go and find the Muses, and convince them to join with you. The Bane may of found them, or at least where they are. He will try to kill them, and you. I would suggest you start your search in the Star Wars dimension; the Muse would most likely be there, for it is a popular section, and many Authors are there."  
  
"I understand. And I will not fail."  
  
Kirk spoke up. "I know you won't. Stand still, Wedge. I will transfer my powers to you." Suddenly, his eyes cleared, and a voice that was his yet was not spoke. "May the wisdom they bring guide you in your paths, be they long or short, ill-fated or not."  
  
I felt a warmth flood my body, and I stared in wonder as my arm regrew. I stared out at the rec room through new eyes, and knew that I would not, could not fail. Secure in this knowledge, I held an arm out, and opened a portal back to the Home Dimension of the Authors. I looked at Emp, and she at me. I nodded, and Emp stepped through the Portal. I then looked at Boomy, then at Kirk. I gave them both a nod, and walked through the portal. Behind me, it closed.  
  
The two looked at where I had gone for a long time. Then, Boomy said a word of farewell, and disappeared back to the final resting place of the Holy Grail. Kirk then sighed, and went to the Bridge.  
  
McCoy was there. "Where have you been?" He demanded.   
  
Kirk didn't bother with a responce. Instead, he sat in the Captains seat, and stared at the viewscreen. "Maximum Warp, Mr. Sulu." He ordered.  
  
"To where, sir?"  
  
Kirk shrugged. "Surprise me."  
  
"Aye, sir." Sulu laid in a course, and then made the jump to warp.  
  
Kirk watched the unnamed planet in the viewscreen shrink to a tiny dot, and then disappear, thinking on what he'd gained, what he'd lost, to that planet, the planet he had never even learened the name of.  
  
He found his thoughts drifting to me. He had always hoped that I would succeed in my mission; it was as much his as mine. But we had never gotten along, and yet he found himself hoping - wishing - that I would come out of it all okay.   
  
--  
  
Down on the unnamed planet, a portal opened. A tall humanoid threw a cloak over his shoulders, looked up at the sky, and considered his options. He dismissed most of them, except this one. It was to escape from this dimension. He had found a way that would not harm the dimension any further; a way that would simply make him disappear, as if dead.  
  
But he was far from dead.  
  
He stepped through the portal, and entered into a world that he did not know, and universe he had never heard of. All he knew at that time was just one thing: He was far from dead.  
  
Far, far away from dead.  
  
--  
  
A/N: Your patience has payed off. And here's the deal: I'm creating an entire series about the Black Author, and me chasing him, gaining muses, eccetera. I'm hoping that all of you will follow me to the next story, which will be Star Wars. I'm not sure about the title yet, or else I'd tell you. But I'm planning on going all throughout the sections of FF.Net, from Trek to 24 to Pirates to Matrix. But, I'm not expecting it to come out any time soon - in addition to going camping this weekend, I have some personal family things that just came up tonight to take care of. But I'll try and have it up soon.   
  
And wow. That was the end. The end the end. This is by far that most successfull story I have ever written. I know that it wasn't extremely successfull, compared to some, but for me, I did extremely well with this. This is the first story I've actually finished. I hope I see you all again in the Star Wars and subsequent stories. 


End file.
